Evermore
by Eternal Ending
Summary: The pieces have fallen and the battle has started. Should they fail, Eragon will have to make a terrible choice: desert his other self or abandon his friends. Meanwhile, the 3rd rider faces a parlous journey to a deadly place. Pre-bris Au R&R 11 to go!
1. Prolouge: Say goodnight, not goodbye

The night was cold and clear. A bright, half moon shone overhead. In the shadows of Du Weldenvarden, a flash of bright green screamed out to be noticed. It waited; there in the dark for something…for someone.

In the village of Ellesmera, Elven lords and ladies danced and chattered. This was the last night most would stay in the safety of the forest city. War cried loud. And thanks to one mortal, they actually stood a chance now. They would join the war and free their land yet.

Embers flickered up from a golden, smokeless fire; illuminating all whom stood in the dark. It flickered off a noble figure of beauty and grace, the queen. She danced with her people; her emerald eyes flashing with energy. She wore a dress of golden flowers. They grew off her. It was tradition that high ranking people wore clothes made of plants which grew off them on festive nights. Her green eyes surveyed the scene. They froze on one particular person.

In the midst of all the dancing stood a tall, mysterious lady. She dawned deep green velvet cloak which she seemed to be reluctant to be parted with. A flash of fine, dark hair flashed past her eye as she walked into the silent night. Though she could not see her eyes in the shadow and flashing fire light, she knew them wise, sorrowful. She moved silently away from the party into the forest.

The Elven lady moved silently through the wood. Her sharp eyes flashed back and forth; watching a bundle tucked close to her one second and the road for travelers the next. She seemed much too nervous to be out simply on some random walk. She turned away from other travelers, not wanting to be seen.

Then she did something almost no one ever did; let alone at night. She snuck off the moonlit path and pushed through gently bending branches; moving fast and silently with all the grace she could muster.

A twig snapped and she felt her heart skip a beat. Was someone following her? Her heart pounded so hard, it threatened to jump right out of her chest. She nervously looked all around her. Nothing made a single sound. Then she looked down to see a large stick snapped by her weight

She breathed a sigh of relief and realized the snap had been her. If anyone knew what she was doing, it would ruin everything. Even those whom did had strongly protested

And it killed her to do it, but if the fortune teller was right, it was the only thing she could do. She tucked the bundle closer. The green mass felt warm in the chilling air.

_Be there,_ she thought to herself silently as she moved noiselessly through the trees_. Please be there._

Freshly fallen leaves churned in the soft, wind by the pale moonlight. It was a starless night; heavy shadows massed in the forest, broken only by the occasional patched silver moonlight.

Her eyes saw things that weren't there; beasts of all shapes and sizes hiding behind the trees ready to attack her, murderers and traitors lurking in the shadows yearning to maim her, eyes watching her every move hidden by the gnarled branches. If any were really there, they did a good job staying hidden though.

The ladies' eyes set ahead; on a shadowed mass of lime green. White spikes ran down its length; sharp and deadly for sure. Four thin, dainty legs each ending in four long curved talons held the large mass up. Two thin wings sprouted from its side. A long, snake like tail extended out from behind its scaly back legs. A large arching neck bent over and it inspected at her with yellow-green eyes. A soft, welcoming rumble escaped its jaws.

Normally she might run from such a beast. But there was no reason. It was just what she was looking for.

_All set, milady? _A voice rang, clear and full through her head. She bit her lower lip, sighed, and nodded.

The skinny legs gracefully bent over, and then they rested on the moist earth. The elf moved towards the creature. And, careful to not to step on the thin wing membranes, she climbed onto her with all the grace her race entailed. The creature stood; slowly it moved forward.

The forest moved past her. The trees, all tall and beautiful, obscured a midnight sky. Shifting clouds blanketed the moon for a half a second then drifted on to another part of the endless sky.

The elf spent her time looking at the bundle before her; lightly caressing it with her delicate hands. She knew what had to be done; for the good of her, her people…and Alagaesia. But, even though it was what must be done, it did not make it any easier to bear.

Her eyes gave the softest, gravest look possible; to the bundle and then to the scaled beast beneath her. She felt anxious as the creature's muscles moved, slowly contracting and expanding.

Panic suddenly found her. What if this was the wrong thing to do, to desert it? So much depended on that this was done and done right. There was no room for error. What if he didn't find or take it? What if it fell off? What if she couldn't bring herself to part when it was time to? What if it was too much of a responsibility for the lime monster?

_Milady; trust me. I can do it. There is no one better too. And there's no other way…_The voice said reassuringly in her head.

_I'm sorry. I know. I am just worried. What if something goes wrong?_

_Nothing will go wrong. The wise one said so. We must trust her judgment. The future is set. We cannot change it. He will find it. He will take it in. he will call it his. She will return…and the battle will happen. There is no choice if we are to win this war._

_You're right. And remember your promise. We will need more then elves, dwarfs, the Varden, and Eragon to win this._

_I will take care of it. There is no need to worry._

She, quite reluctantly, placed the bundle down on the green creature; tying it to a large tan leather strap that fit snugly around the girth of the neck of the creature.

A soft sad cry escaped her lips. She felt all alone; no one must know till the time is right why she was upset. And that was a heavy burden to bear alone. But she had too. She had made the mistake and now she had to pay for her actions.

A small, crystal tear fell onto the precious bundle; quickly absorbing into the green velvet. She would allow herself no more then one tear; one. One tear filled with all the emotions that now surged through her; threatening to take over her very being.

Her mount stopped. Its knees buckled over again; slowly to not through off the rider. She swung her left leg over its chest. Then she slid down the right side; her feet easily absorbing the impact.

She turned and surveyed her surroundings for other eves. They were in on of Du Weldenvarden's few clearings. No elves were there; though she heard crickets' sympathizing violins, bat's lonely screech, and the flapping of night bird's wings.

The deep green grass swayed in a light breeze; making her shiver. The cloudy moonlight glowed in the clearing. An owl flew down towards the green grass. There came a frantic peeping. Then the owl flew back to a large tree; clasping something in its claws.

She could see all around her in perfect detail; darkness not hindering her vision. Mostly, the clearing was still, as if holding it's breath for something.

She then turned to the green steed. She stared into its green eyes. Then her gaze shifted down its thorny spine till they reached the scaly gap in its shoulders and the lonely bundle. Her gaze caught the bundle.

"Azha tlum, eloi muhrr. Eka ulonw opiuts ono ianga." She whispered to it. Then she turned to the green creature, "Sivi uloit ui rthe, Aleazôêtor Bjartskular."

The mount looked at her with liquid eyes. It breathed on her and nodded. It had true sympathy in its eyes; for her terrible predicament happened all too often, though not in this way. But they also reassured her and she gave a soft, sad smile.

She rapped her arms around the scaly neck and kissed its long snout. Then she reluctantly let go of its head and began to walk away; tears forming in her sad green eyes. But she held her head high and didn't allow then to leave.

The Elven lady paused and turned toward it; to watch it take off. The creature flapped its massive wings. Soon it was airborne. It rose higher and higher till it disappeared from the elf's sharp gaze.

With a sigh, she turned and reluctantly walked away. She silently moved back the way she came. She stumbled on a log; her vision clouded from tears. A normal person would let them fall. But she wouldn't…couldn't let them leave the corners of her eyes.

She silently cursed. Her throat felt tight; as if she couldn't breath. She gasped precious air. She slowly tried to clam herself. Finally, she continued down her path.

_Eka ulonw opiuts ono ianga_. She thought to herself, thinking of the poor little bundle, getting tossed around by the wind in the sky. She found herself of the path she wanted; and soon her gaze locked on the Elven capital, Ellesmera.


	2. A hasty escape

Roran lay propped up half way by silver pillows on his cloud of a bed; thinking as he always did when he woke. He hadn't been able to sleep all night. Large, hard purple bags gathered under his eyes. Constant worry came to him; with flashes of joy and hope. Strangely he didn't feel remotely tired. Light poured on him as he thought.

He looked over to the other bed. His cousin slept peacefully on it. This was his room.

Roran still felt he could barely call him his cousin. He had the look of an elf; ears pointed movement's graceful, body lithe and feline. His hair had lightened to a more light brown color. Even his eyes seemed deeper brown. But at heart, he was that same boy he'd always known; the same one he had always counted on.

He still almost couldn't believe all that had happened. Eragon and Saphira had changed so many lives. Sloan had turned out to be treacherous, Katrina willing to give everything for love, people from Carvahall heroes, and Roran himself a leader.

"You never know how someone will behave in an emergency till they actually have been in one." Roran heard Garrow's words in his head.

He hadn't known how true those words were till now. He'd have never seen Eragon as the hero to save all of Alagaesia, but obviously he was.

His Katrina! She was finally coming back! Back into his arms again. He loved her so. And it had been so long since he'd last seen her. How he missed her. He closed his eyes and saw her in his head.

Her crystal blue eyes jumped out from behind long feathery lashes. Atop them rested two defined brown brows. Half of her long mane of coppery hair, which flowed down past her shoulders to about her mid back, was up with a plain silver clip. She was wearing a bright, radiant white dress that flowed down to her ankles. It was plain silk with lace and pearls on the end of the arms. Not too fancy. But Eragon would probably have it be so much different then he now viewed it. On her feet were shoes made of white leather.

Around her were thousands of beautiful flowers of all colors and varieties. The sun shone brightly behind her. A soft whisper of wind flowed through her cascade of molten copper. A smile rested on her plump, succulent peach lips as she moved with the grace of an elf to him. Out of the corner of his eye, though he wasn't concentrating much on it, he saw a pavilion decorated with the national colors of Surda.

"Roran?" she said deep voice. It was odd, she didn't normally sound like that…

"Katrina…"

"Roran…" She said again in the same voice.

He got up with his eyes still closed and moved towards her voice.

"Roran!" She yelled.

He pushed her lips against hers. They were warm and soft and…real? The owner pushed away from Roran's body. Roran stopped. He felt hot and embarrassed. He knew it wasn't going to end well. But he could at least hope it wasn't… Quite reluctantly he opened his eyes. It was…

"WHAT IN ALAGASIA IS WRONG WITH YOU RORAN!" His cousin screamed.

Roran winced. He felt like he was going to…oh wait. He did. There goes last night's dinner. His mouth felt gross and gritty as he went to the bathroom to go wash his mouth out. He swished with some water from the water basin then splashed some water in his face.

After rinsing and drying off, he looked in the mirror to see how he looked. He saw a man who looked little like Roran Gorrowsson. His eyes and hair was the same, but a short beard hung from his lower jaw along with a thin shadow of mustache. His brown eyes had the look of a new soldier in them; glum and hopeless. He'd seen things many men had never even dreamed of. Not one but two dragons and riders, enough blood to fill Lake Leona, that horrified look men get just before they die. He'd stared in the eyes of a dead man and could see that man and him switching places. Countless times. He'd seen the face of Ra'zac. More like the face of evil. They'd stole away his true love; the one who he would love long after the day they died.

His lips curved into a smile as he imagined the look on the Ra'zac's faces when he pounded them into the ground with his hammer. They'd pay for what they did to Katrina, to him, to Eragon, to Garrow, to Carvahall, and to Alagaesia.

He went back down the hall to Eragon's room. He pasted some nobles who were up early. One wore a dress golden as the sun. Another wore a rich midnight blue velvet tunic and slim, tightly fitting trousers. Another wore a black cloak that completely hid all his features; though there was no doubt in his mind that they were refined. He looked on his own wardrobe with a sigh. He'd been so busy, he hadn't had the time to change much. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment about his state.

All the nobles, strangely enough much to his dismay and pleasure, looked up at him, gave him radiant smiles, and deep, respectful bows.

"Stronghammer." They said softy before returning to previous matters. He flushed even more as he gave a customary nod and smile back.

After that he moved, unhindered, through the white marble halls back to Eragon's room. He opened the door that should have been it, but it was just an empty storage room.

_Must be the next room down. _He said to himself, in denial that he was lost. The next room had no more luck. It looked nobilities' home, but no one was there. Same went for the next room. It went on and on. No one was there. Or there. Or even there.

_Where is everyone?_ Roran thought. Finally, he came to the end of the hall and the last door. He heard a voice! But when he tried to open the door, it won't budge. So he decided to listen and see who was there.

"This is madness!" came a strong, famine voice. Roran thought for a moment, and then he realized it was Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden. "Eragon can't fight this war for us! We can't rely on him for this. It would put his life in danger and-"

"Nasuada, who are you to talk? The Varden needs this if we are to survive!" Came an elderly voice of a woman. Roran did not know her.

"It's just a wild goose chase! That palace…" she shuddered, "has more then just Galbatorix. There's the red rider, hundreds of guards, even a moat with that beast in it." She sounded really upset.

"The council believes this to be the best choice. You may be impeached if you do not cooperate. Tell Eragon his assignment."

_No. No! NO! What about Katrina? _Roran screamed thought his head. He's rather die then spend another week without Katrina.

"I rule the Varden, not you! I am his liege lord. And I will not place my subject in such a position!" She said defiantly. The tone in her voice made it clear she wouldn't budge. Not even if a thousand dragons screamed at her and ripped her to shreds.

_Yes! _Roran thought

"I agree." Came an elderly male voice.

"All those who second Jormunder say aye." Came a strong, boom voice. It was followed by several ayes. "Alright…All those with Sabrae, say aye now." Two ayes followed. Some, but not enough to win. "Majority wins." Roran smiled. He had been worried for nothing. Eragon would be coming with him, not going on some egg hunt for the elders or whatever.

Then he heard heavy foot-steps and the jangle of keys. He suddenly felt it wouldn't be smart to get caught, so he ran back down the hall. He picked the right path. Soon he was staring at a teak door with a brass handle studded with sapphires. He opened it to see Eragon sitting on his bed. He surveyed the large suite. Their beds were neatly made; their belongings neatly packed.

"Hey." Eragon said softly.

"Hey." Roran replied, then added, "About earlier-"

"It never happened." Eragon cut him off. He smiled. They both looked down at their feet, no willing to look at each other, much less meet their each others gaze.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked after a long awkward pause.

"I didn't sleep at all." Roran said.

Eragon shot a worried look. "Because of Katrina?"

Roran bit his lip and nodded. "I just can't wait for her to be back in my arms; to be able to hold her and never let go."

Eragon gave him a soft, sad smile and nodded back at him. He reached out to see if Saphira was awake yet.

_Saphira?_ He asked in a whisper, so not to wake her if she wasn't awake.

_Yes, little one? _She answered.

_Good…you're awake. We're going to get breakfast. Then we're going to want to get out of her before someone stops us._

_I will be ready._

"Let's go have breakfast, Roran." Eragon suggested.

He nodded as he slid on a blue tunic. They both got dressed and then started out of the room towards the dinning room. On their way there, several lords and ladies of the Surdian court nodded to Roran and bowed or curtsied to Eragon.

"Shadeslayer." They'd say respectfully before returning to whatever they had been doing before. Eragon, Roran noticed, gave them all something between an embarrassed blush and a dignified nod. Roran had to use all the control in his body to keep from laughing at how he replied to them. Then he realized he had been in the same situation earlier and looked down at his feet.

Luckily, they were soon at the marble dinning room. There a buffet waited for them. It smelled better then anyone can, or will understand.

Golden hot cakes fresh from the fryer sizzled; soft, strange fruits piled high as the eye could see. Soft, glorious meats steamed; fresh berry-juice bread light the room with its sweet aroma.

Eragon and Roran's mouths watered at the spectacle. They grabbed two plates and piled on high anything they saw that they liked.

After eating, they swiftly left to go finish packing their things. The marble halls flew past their feet.

"Argetlam! Argetlam!" came a softy, sweet voice. They turned to see a young woman. She was garbed in peasant's clothes and her hair was a little dirty and greasy. It was all up in a messy braid. Her face had faint black and brown smudges on it. She looked maybe twenty-seven…and was pregnant. But her hazel eyes caught their attention.

"I need help! Men are invading my home. They have killed my husband and threaten by son. I fear for my daughter. They are invading at Surda's borders." They felt truly bad for her, but they couldn't help.

"I have a vow to another that I must take care of before I may help. I'm sorry."

"But you must! My family can't hold on much longer." Eragon gave a desperate glance to Roran; hoping he'd say they could help. He gave a sad nod and reluctantly mouthed. "I'm sorry, but no."

"Guards…" Eragon said. Two iron cladded men came to him. The woman gave a nervous glance at the guards, then at Eragon.

"Argetlam?" they asked, giving a deep bow before they said another word.

"Would you take this young lady to Nasuada? She has some useful information and a problem we must help her with." The woman's eyes lit up. Tears formed in her eyes as she thanked Eragon.

She gave a cry and shouted as the guards took her to Nasuada's study, "Thank you Eragon Shadeslayer!"

Roran and Eragon shrugged and moved on to there room to finish packing.

After some time, a pounding came at their door.

"Argetlam! Argetlam!" Came several voices, all of which Eragon didn't recognize.

"Roran! Quick! Out the window!" He whispered swiftly.

_Saphira, quick! Come get us!_ He yelled to his dragon.

She came quickly and silently. He smiled at her. _I look forward to our flight today._ He said.

_As do I, little one._

_You think you can catch us?_

_I'd never let you fall…_

He then grabbed all their stuff and stuck it out the window. Saphira caught all of it and stuffed it into the saddle. Then Roran jumped. She caught him and lowered him into the saddle. She did the same for Eragon and just like that they were off.


	3. Memories and dreams

Eragon sat, relaxed in the saddle. His gaze watched as the earth was ripped steadily from beneath them. The quiet hum of the wind filled his ears; the steady thud of Saphira's wings on air was the only other sound. The morning air was cold and crisp.

Behind him, Roran shivered a little at its mercy. He had no idea what he was in for. A poor farm boy with some experience up against two hardened, war bred Ra'zac. The chances weren't as good as Roran thought.

Eragon let himself smile a bit. This was how it all started for him; chasing the Ra'zac with the hopes of killing them. It had come full circle and now he was on their tails again. Maybe Roran could one day be the hero to him again. It did get annoying; he always was out on one mission or another. He laughed as he remembered a conversation they'd had when he was little.

Flashback to noon of eleven years ago. A month and two days from that very day.

"Eragon! Hurry up! We're going to miss it!" Yelled a young voice, childish to a fault. A boy appeared through the dense brush, running down one of the few paths through the Spine. A short whisper of bronze hair the color of the leaves; just that day turn a molten goldish-brown, flowed in a light autumn breeze. If anyone were to guess his age, they'd be right in saying ten. He ducked, just in time, just missing a low branch. His eyes, a mahogany brown, looked back down the path.

"Slow down, Roran! You know I'm not as fast as you!" a younger voiced replied. Through the forest, he saw a much younger, by four years in fact, boy running swiftly through the trees. His big, dull, brown eyes saw the same low branch Roran had just dodged just above him. He tried to slow down, but his little legs didn't let him much.

"Eragon, watch ou-" His cousin was too late. He winced, slamming his eyes shut, as Eragon's little head smashed into the spiny tree branches.

When he opened them again, he couldn't help but chortle a bit. His little cousin's light brown hair was tangled in the sharp branches. Little leaves, determined to cling to their parents, gave up and gathered in the roots of the six-year-old's thin hair. He yanked down, trying to get his hair free. Then he noticed his cousin's big brown gaze resting on him. He blushed from embarrassment; mortified by his situation.

Closing his eyes, he finally spoke up, "Roran, can you help me? I'm stuck." His little innocent voice had a hint of pleading. Roran snuffled a laugh.

"Su-r-e." he said between giggles. He briskly moved to his little cousin. His warm hands ran through his own hair as he thought about what to do. He then began to untangle his little cousin's hair; snapping thin branches so he could work out easily the not so thin ones. When his cousin's hair was free, he sifted out the broken branches and crumbled leaves.

"You got to be more careful. Who knows? The fate of Alagaesia may rest in your hand someday, Rider." He said the last part in a sarcastic voice. He clearly hadn't known then it was true.

Eragon gave a soft punch to Roran's bigger arm; which was working out a particularly stubborn branch; his arm jerked upward from the sudden force. Eragon gave a soft cry as several strands were ripped out. "Ouch! That hurt, Galbatorix!" He mocked.

"Why do I always have to be Galbatorix?"

"Cause you look like him. Smell like him. Oh ya and you're older."

"Hey! I'm not _that_ old!"

"You sure?"

Roran tackled him. The two rolled around and around. Despite the younger boy's protests and struggles, Roran quickly pinned him.

"Uncle! Uncle!" he yelled in submission as Roran threatened to spit on his face. He let go of Eragon's little wrists; only for Eragon to give a malevolent grin as he tacked him again. Roran made sure it was the same outcome. Finally, Eragon gave in.

"Why are you so much stronger then me?"

"Because I'm your older, better looking half."

"Right…" Eragon said as he rolled his eyes and dusted off his clothes. "Just keep up with that positive attitude. Maybe one day you'll marry an elf."

Just as Roran was about to punch Eragon for his smart remark, they heard a trumpet sound.

"Auhh! Eragon! Hurry! We're going to miss them!" Eragon nodded and they both took off. Forest flew out from beneath them; Roran faster then Eragon. Soon they were in view of Carvahall. The royal guard had beaten them to the village though.

"I guess I'm not faster then a horse." Roran said as he dug through his pocket and pulled out one bronze coin. He gave it to Eragon without looking. Eragon gave a large, toothy smile as he pocketed his winnings. At least he won one bet.

"Come on. Let's go see them." Eragon said as he pulled his tiny leather vest tighter. "Beat cha to it."

"You're on!" Roran replied as he lunged forward. Roran was quickly out of sight. Eragon pushed his little legs to the limit. He was quickly in town. He tore through the streets, never taking his eyes of the black stallions on which the soldiers rode. He had soon tore in front of them.

"Roran?" He said as his big eyes searched the streets for his cousin.

"Eragon!" came a voice from behind him. He turned and gave a relieved sigh to see Roran, hiding behind a thin building. His eyes flashed worry to Eragon that greatly confused the young boy.

He ran to his cousin. But he tripped on a rock and fell to the ground; right in the path of a great black stallion! The beast reared and Eragon saw his short, few years rush pass through his eyes. Just before the brute's iron hooves stomped on Eragon's head, Roran dashed forward and pushed Eragon out of the way; saving his cousin from certain death.

"Eragon! You blockhead! You almost just got yourself killed! Watch where you're going!" Roran roared as the stallion promptly trotted away with out so much as a second glance to the boy he'd almost killed. Eragon shivered in fear a bit; shocked that he had almost just met life's end.

"I'm ssss-orry Rora-ra-ran." Eragon managed to stutter out; tears welding up in his eyes. Eragon turned away from Roran; not wanting him to see him in such a state.

Roran put his hand on the little shoulder and turned Eragon around to face him. Eragon avoided Roran's eyes, In a much gentler tone, Roran said, "Eragon, I was so worried. You're my only cousin. And the closet thing I have to a brother. I just can't stand the thought of loosing you, that's all." He pulled Eragon in for a hug. Eragon pulled away at first, but then he found comfort and tightened his grip on his cousin. "I will always protect you, my little brother."

"And I, you." Eragon whispered, soft as the wind.

End flashback.

Eragon smiled. It was ironic; how much Roran depended on him now. It was now up to him to save his fiancé. He owed him that much. Roran had always believed in him. They'd had such great experiences together. _And_, he thought as he gave a low laugh, _he was right about one thing. I am a Rider._ His thoughts ran over his rich memories. He laughed at how things had turned out. Roran had once easily pinned him. Now Eragon could pin him with a blind fold on, no Saphira to help, and all but one limb tied behind his back.

Then he thought back to the next thing he did on that day, just after he was unshaken. _That _was an unpleasant experience.

Flash back. It is an hour after the last one.

Now, let's go home, birthday boy." Roran said, ruffling Eragon's hair as he spoke. Eragon's eyes lit up.

"You remembered!" Eragon said, beaming with the all brightness of the sun.

Roran smile back as he gave a sharp nod.

"I was supposed to get you away from the house. And what better way then the these royal guards coming into town. We have a surprise for you." He said, then added, "But don't tell anyone I told you."

"What is it?" He said, the look of curiosity in his eyes.

Roran quickly changed topics. "I have one thing you can do to find out." He gestured to a soldier's massive tent. "There's a red ruby in there. I saw it this morning. I dare you to steal it. If you can, my lips might just loosen just enough for you to hear the surprise." He held out his hand. "Are you in?"

Eragon looked at the tent. It was huge. Stripes of black dashed the red pavilion. Near the top, there was a vicious black dragon. Eragon shuddered. _Shruikan…_

"Unless you're scared…" Eragon looked at the tent. Then at a soldier. Then Roran's hand.

"I'll do it." He finally said.

End flashback.

Eragon gave a deep sigh; knowing what he hadn't in those days. He had been in terrible danger and had not even known it…

Flashback. Ten minutes after the last.

Roran motioned to Eragon to move in. He could see no guards through the open flap of the tent. He was to stand watch while Eragon slipped in. Eragon gave a nervous sigh. He knew he could easily loose an arm or leg should he be caught steeling. Those were Alagaesia's laws; well more like Galbatorix's laws. It was a crude, but effective punishment.

Eragon gave sharp glances to every person near by. No one was even remotely looking at him. Now was his chance. So, before his luck and courage failed him, he quickly slipped inside.

It was oddly dark inside; like whoever owned the tent had no use for light. The air was frigid and a foul smell clung to it like a thief would to stolen money. In the top of the tent was one hole which let in an evil reddish light. Bathing in that small amount of light in the center of the room, there was a brilliant golden shrine. It had nearly seven layers of the purest gold Eragon had ever seen. It was etched with strange markings; words. But not like any words Eragon had ever seen. He couldn't read; and yet he felt they had terrible power. Strong but cruel. One, had he known the knowledge he knew now, he would have recognized as zar'roc. All were markings of the ancient language. Vile words, bidding ill will to those whom dared to utter them.

The top of the shrine held the thing he was here for; it literally took his breath away. Sitting upon the golden shine, was the most beautiful stone Eragon had ever seen. It was a deep ruby red. It was a massive stone; shaped and carved into a perfect oval. It had a glossy finish. Eragon marled how anyone could shape such a large stone, nearly a foot in length, so perfectly.

He was so busy staring at the stone; he was shocked to suddenly hear his name. "Eragon! Hurry! Someone's coming!" He heard Roran frantically yelled.

Eragon found himself panic stricken. He quickly ran up and grabbed the stone. Then he made a sharp turn and bolted towards the exit. But as he careened towards the light, a shadow moved into it. A tall, pale man garbed in a black cloak stood in his way. He was lithe, but refined in features. On his cloak were similar markings as found on the shrine. His lips curved into a cruel smile as he pulled out a strange, sharp, thin blade with a long white scratch running down its length. He advanced on Eragon, who was frozen in fear. Eragon saw hated in his eyes. He couldn't see their color till now. They were cruel, unforgiving, maroon eyes. And his long hair was a deep, evil red.

"Going somewhere?" He asked in an oily voice. It sent shivers down Eragon's spine; thinking this man was about to end his life and seemed to enjoy the idea.

"Eragon!" Roran made a dash into the tent to save Eragon yet again. He stood between the stranger and his little cousin. "Move!" He yelled as the man lunged his sword forward at Eragon's cousin. Roran just barely dodged it before another lunge came. "Now!" Eragon couldn't move. His feet held where they sat; not comprehending the danger he was in. "Come on!"

Finally Eragon shook it off and ran to the exit. Roran saw him and, still dodging their attacker, followed. But the man was too quick and his blade too sharp. It caught Roran's left leg, slicing muscle from bone. A cry tore from Roran's lips as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. His attacker stood over him; bloody blade gleaming with joy as he prepared the final blow.

Something inside the six year old snapped then. He didn't know if it was the sight of his cousin's life's blood spilling out on the cold ground or the hated he felt towards this man for attacking a completely innocent boy because of him. But he found the courage, somehow, to lunge forward, tossing the stone to meet the man's blade. The blade, shockingly enough, shattered as the stone met its steely tip. The man gave an enraged howl, and then pulled out a thin, silvery dagger; murder in his evil eyes. Eragon had to move fast. He quickly pulled Roran to his feet and forced him to run for his life, despite the pain.

The man ran after them with inhuman speed, but his sharp maroon eyes lost them in the crowd of people. He howled his anger and hatred of being beaten by the young boys

End flashback.

Eragon winced as he realized his attacker had been Durza. He had never realized he had met Durza before Gil'ead. In those days, he had not known that that, "ruby," had been Thorn his brother's dragon. Not only that, but Eragon now saw how thing begin. This was the first eventful day of his life. And before now, he'd completely forgotten it. He wondered for a moment what would have happened if he had kept the egg. Thorn might have hatched for him. Or maybe Durza would have killed him and his family earlier then was their time. Maybe they'd have two Dragon Riders on their side stead of just one. He'd never know.

Eragon felt his but go numb. His face felt could and his eyes dry. His lips were chapped from the wind. It hurt him a lot.

He sighed. The trip from Aberon to Helgrind was two days by dragon back. It was around noon now, and they still had long to go. Roran sat upright in the saddle, brightly looking ahead, as if expecting to see Helgrind any moment now. He too appeared discomforted.

He might be able to push Saphira to do it in one day he realized; but to do so would leave her exhausted. They would likely be tired and sore. And it would be night when they arrived. The Ra'zac were strongest at night. To get there then with a tired dragon and stiff, crammed up muscles for themselves, was like handing themselves over to Galbatorix. Plus Roran needed instruction if they were to have any hope whatsoever of killing them.

Roran's eyes glowed with excitement as Saphira flew. He clearly wanted to get there soon. He reached down to his hammer; as if to ensure himself it was still there.

Eragon suddenly felt very tired. He closed his eyes. The thud of Saphira's wings lulled him to sleep; like a sweet lullaby. Soon, he was out cold.

_A frail young woman sat in a darkened room. Her features were hidden beneath a dark green cloak, but Eragon somehow knew she was extremely beautiful, like a golden flower._

_She seemed upset about something. He felt agitated about her seeming so sad, like he should be helping her. _

_She turned her head and gazed right into his eyes; piercing his very soul. He shivered under her unwavering gaze. Her emerald eyes glinted with anger._

"_Awiul." She said. But her voice was faded, as if he leaving her. His vision began to blur. Just before he lost all the details in her thin face, he saw a tear streaming down her face from her green eyes. And he knew no more._

"Eragon!" Roran trumpeted. It was a rude awakening for the young Rider. He groaned. It was much later; around four thirty.

"Five more minutes.' He mumbled. Roran punched his arm, frustrated. "Okay! What do you want?"

"How long till we're there?" He said excitedly.

"A long time." Eragon grumbled back. Something, whether it was their hasty escape, the food, or bad sleep, had put him in a foul mood.

"I was just asking."

"And I was just answering!" he roared. Then he calmed down, "Sorry. I didn't seep too well."

"Seemed like you did…" Roran mumbled.

_Oh Saphira. What's wrong with me?_ He told her about his dream. She blinked at him; her eyes filled with curiosity.

_For now, I don't think we should even try to guess on the matter. _He nodded at her. She was right.

_I just wish I could tell why it upset me so._

She looked like she desperately wanted to ask something. She grumbled and went back to flying. A couple minutes later, she turned back towards him; looking at him with a touch of curiosity in her big blue eyes.

_Little one?_

_Yes Saphira?_

_I'm curious…_

_About what?_

_Well… What are human females like? _Eragon suppressed a laugh._ I've seen few. And I've only spent a lengthily amount of time with one, Nasuada. And she is no ordinary female, correct?_

_Aye, Saphira. She is wise and powerful beyond her years. And I can actually tell what's going on in her brain…most of the time…_

_Then I have seen no normal females-_ she concluded.

_Girls. Call them girls, Saphira._

_Girls then. What are they like?_

_I don't really know much._

_You mean to tell me that the Great Eragon Shadeslayer has never ever had a girlfriend?_

_I did…once…_

_Right…_

_I did!_

_What was she like?_

_She had curly brown hair and hazel eyes. She was slender; lithe as a dragon. She lived on a farm near ours. Bangs hid most of her forehead; under them was a scar about this big._ Eragon made a shape about the size of the largest single scale on Saphira. _She smart, sweet, stubborn to a fault. I never quite got how her brain worked. She was very annoying at times. She was… very confusing…_

_Is that why you are no with her now?_

_I wish that was the only reason… _Eragon swallowed hard and bit away a tear. _She- hey I've got an idea. I'll show you!_

_Okay…_

Eragon thought back, pulling Saphira's gaze with his own. He was about to show her some really painful memories…

Flashback. It is eight years after the last one.

Eragon sat in his room, trying to brush out his hair. He was nervous yet excited. He and Arianie, and Roran and Katrina were going on a double date. They were planning on taking the girls to the lake just before sunset. Then they'd camp out there for the night. Roran and Katrina would be in one tent, Eragon and Arianie in the other. He smiled as he thought of her.

As he looked in the mirror, he fretted about the extra two zits he'd gotten over night. How could they be so big? He just hoped Arianie wouldn't notice or at least care.

As he worried, two knocks came to his ears. His heart skipped a beat. They were here!

He took one last look in the mirror, sighed, and ran downstairs to the door. He opened the door to see something that made his jaw drop. Two, strikingly beautiful girls stood in front of him.

The younger one, Arianie, wore a white blouse with a black jacket over it. A black skirt flowed from her hips to her mid ankle. She was maybe four inches taller then Eragon. Deep brown curls of hair flowed from her head to mid shoulder. Long bangs hid most of her forehead. Under them was the shadow of a white scar, broken up by her bangs. She had freckles dotting her cheeks and nose. Like her boyfriend, she also had one or two zits. Her hazel eyes seemed to hold back a laugh. Her light pink lips curved up in a cheerful smile.

The older one, Katrina, wore a beautiful dress. At the top, it was white. But as it went down, it gained a yellow hue. She was three inches taller then Arianie. Her copper hair shone in the moonlit night, like fire in darkness. Her crystal blue eyes and peach lips both sent greetings to Eragon; without her needing to say a single word.

"You ladies look beautiful." Came Roran's voice from behind him. Eragon couldn't speak. Katrina blushed. Her smile deepened.

"So do you." Katrina answered. They were more experienced then their younger counterparts.

"Shall we go?" Roran said in a flirty tone.

"Lets." She answered.

As they walked, Roran and Katrina couldn't stop talking. But Arianie and Eragon couldn't even say a thing. They just kept playing that awkward staring game; where one will be looking at he other and then the other will look back, they'd see the other was saw them looking at them and quickly look away.

This continued till they were at the lake. They sat on it's shores; looking off to the horizon. The sun set had just started. Eragon picked up a flat stone and threw it across the water. It bounced about seven times, then landed in the water.

"That's really cool." Arianie started, glad she had thought of some way to break the ice. "How'd you do that?"

"Easy." Eragon said, impressed he could even talk. He skipped another rock

"Can you teach me?" She said, sliding towards him a little. Eragon gave a gulp at how she moved towards him. He had to use all his strength to stop himself from moving away.

He grabbed a large, flat stone from the beach. "Give me your hand." He said. She placed her dainty hand in his. It was cool and delicate to the touch. "Now, here's your rock. It's got to be flat though. Or it won't work." He handed her the stone.

"Now, flick your wrist back. Then when I say 'let go,' let it go." She did as he said and just as her wrist was over the water, he said, "Let go!" but she didn't move fast enough and the rock fell into the water with a soft plop. Eragon chortled a bit. "Care to try again?"

"Sure." She answered. He picked up another rock, told her the same thing, and they ended up with the same results. "Here." Eragon grabbed another stone. He set it in her thin hand and then place his hand over hers.

"Now, one more time." They went through the same hand motions. "Let go!" Eragon yelled. And like that, the rock flew across the water, skipping over twenty times before disappearing beneath the water's surface.

"Yay!" She said as she gave him a tight hug. He was surprised at first, but then held tightly to her thin form.

After a while, she let go. They sat back down and skipped more rocks. He turned to her. And her to him. And they shared one, perfect tender moment when their lips touched. He held her close.

Then they backed away. She gently swung her right leg in the air and he skipped another rock. Then a sound came to their ears. Laughter. They both blushed as they turned to see Roran and Katrina; on the beach laughing and clapping like crazy at those intense moments.

"Ow-ow-ow!" howled Roran.

Eragon smiled. Arianie giggled a bit. Ah but this could not last…

End flashback.

_Sounds like you really liked this girl. _

_Aye. _

_I do wonder, how did she get that scar? _

_That is one question I cannot answer as of yet._

_I see no reason why you should not be with her now._

_Well, there is. That was the beginning of probably the most confusing experience of my whole life; well, at least till you came in the picture. I'm not going to show you everything. Long story short, her parents and my uncle began their age old plans, announced when I was only six, to arrange a marriage between me and her. Not anytime soon, but they did decide to tell me and her about them. I was thrilled; but Arianie, being the independent soul she was, was not so thrilled._

_That does present a problem._

_You haven't seen anything yet._

Flashback. One week and two days after Eragon's eleventh birthday.

"I'm not going to let them do this to me. If Eragon and I are meant to be, it won't be under their terms." Arianie said out loud to herself as she grabbed her back pack. She had tied he bed sheets together so she could climb down them and make a silent escape into the Spine.

She managed to descend down the sheets easy. She ran swiftly to the barn. Her pinto was in there; saddled and ready to go; just as she had planned…

Nearby, Eragon was about to go see Arianie. He knew she wasn't happy with the idea of being tied down, but he really did feel like it was the right choice. He'd need to prove that to her though. And with each passing second, the promise she'd made to run away could have another chance to be fulfilled. He just hoped he wasn't to late…

A noise came out of the dark; the rhythmic drum of iron hooves. Eragon prayed it wasn't, but it was… Arianie's three year old black and white pinto cut its shape through the black night. The young stallion reared when his eyes gazed upon Eragon.

"Patches! Calm down!" came the voice he had really hoped it wasn't. But, of course, it was.

The stallion stopped rearing and leveled out, panting slightly. "Yuh!" she said. And Arianie and Patches disappeared into the night.

"Arianie!" Eragon yelled as he swung his leg over Birka. He galloped after the vanishing figure. Eragon pushed Birka to her limit, but the poor chestnut mare couldn't catch the pinto stallion. They soon fell behind. Eragon realized it was too dark to track them. So they set up a makeshift camp and decided to rest there till morning. Patches and Arianie couldn't run forever. But they would run much later, making them sleep much more of the day away. Eragon knew he could catch her in the morning.

End flashback.

_So, she ran away._

_Ya…_

_Did you catch her?_

_You'll just have to wait and see._

Flashback. Noon of the next day.

Eragon looked down at the print in the mud. A while back, they'd found a sharp rock with some blood on it. And now he knew he was close to his target. Her horse had left a trail of blood. She couldn't make him go far with such an injury. It was around here that horse and human prints started to appear; not just horse.

_She would have had to camp near here. Even she would not be so foolish as to run off with out a horse in the Spine._

Sure enough, over the next ridge was a small, makeshift camp. A brook bubbled next to it and there were deer bones from a fairly large buck from what he could tell. A pinto stallion grazed near the brook. On his back left hack was a bandage made of oak leaves. Further down the side of the brook was a small tent and the charred remains of a fire. A new one had been started fairly recently ten feet from the old one. Based on the size of the flames and the amount of unburned wood, Eragon guessed it was started maybe an hour ago at most.

He descended on the camp. The stallion gave a nervous whinny and pawed the earth a couple times.

"What's a matter, boy? Where's Ari-" he didn't even get to finish the word before he heard heavy breathing behind him. He turned to see her, rushing at him with a club-like stick. He dodged her just in time. The blow struck a sapling behind him. It cracked as easily as a tooth pick. He wheeled around and grabbed the broken sapling. She sent another heavy blow to him; which he blocked with his own weapon. She took another shot at him, which he blocked again. He neutralized every blow she sent to him. He kept her at bay, never daring to strike back though.

Finally, he hand enough. With his other hand, he caught her weapon in mid air, before it came down on him. She tried to yank it out of his grip, but to no avail. Realizing she couldn't win, she made a dash for the forest.

Eragon quickly got onto Birka, knowing Arianie was faster then him on foot. He cantered after her, quickly gaining.

She pushed her legs harder then she had ever before, but it was all to no avail. She wasn't faster then a horse. Eragon pulled up beside her, moving just as fast as she was.

"Arianie! I just want to talk!" He cried in desperation.

"I gave you a whole week to talk! Nothing you've said convinces me of anything but that I need to find my own desiteny!"

"Please Arianie! I love-" just as he started on the last word, a loose rock gave way. It all happened so fast, Eragon barely knew what occurred till it was over. The rock under Arianie's foot slipped and she fell with it, off balance. She had no control and couldn't stop. Fear struck her hazel eyes as her head tumbled toward a hard boulder. Her head smashed against it, killing her instantly.

End flashback.

_I'm sorry. _Saphira said. _I had no idea. I-I shouldn't have even asked._

_Don't worry about it, Saphira. It's just a painful memory. Nothing can be done about it. I'll never see Arianie again. She's gone. _Eragon hid a tear from Saphira as he said this. But Saphira was not so easily fooled by her Rider. She froze in the air and nuzzled him with her nose.

_How did I not know of this before?_ She said as she resumed her flight.

_I spent many hours trying to forget. And something about this whole Katrina situation reminded me. They were mostly forgotten till now._

Saphira seemed desperate to ask something. She finally just couldn't hold it back any longer. _What happened after she passed on?_

_We gave her the average service. She was buried at her parent's farm. Her parents seemed almost to blame me. No one else thought the same though. They moved, to Yazuac actually. They said they wanted to get out of those cursed hills and away from me. I don't believe they ever did move. And you saw Yazuac._

_Yes._

_Then you know they probably didn't make it. _Saphira seemed out of questions.

The rest of the way, all three kept to themselves till dusk came. Eragon was surprised. They had covered more distance then he had thought; camped right by the beginning of the Jiet River; maybe a half an hour to Helgrind. They ate food from their bags, Roran and Eragon spared, and then almost wordlessly went to bed.


	4. Light and Shadow

This is an actual section from the I.T.'s third book taken from the ending pages of a special addition of eldest. Only the best. Without further ado, CP's 3rd chapter in the final installment of the inheritance trilogy!

Saphira kneaded the soil beneath her feet. _Let us be off!_

Leaving their bags and supplies hanging from the branch of a juniper tree, Eragon and Roran clambered onto Saphira's back. They wasted no time saddling her; she had worn her tack through the night. The molded leather was warm, almost hot, underneath Eragon. He clutched the neck spike in front of him--to steady himself during sudden changes in direction--while Roran hooked one thick arm around Eragon's waist and brandished his hammer with the other.

A piece of shale cracked under Saphira's weight as she settled into a low crouch and then, in a single giddy bound, leaped up to the rim of the gulch, where she balanced for a moment before unfolding her massive wings. The thin membranes thrummed as Saphira raised them toward the sky. Vertical, they looked like two translucent blue sails.

"Not so tight," grunted Eragon.

"Sorry," said Roran. He loosened his embrace. Further speech became impossible as Saphira jumped again.

When she reached the pinnacle of her jump, she brought her wings down with a mighty whoosh, driving the three of them even higher. With each subsequent flap, they climbed closer to the flat, narrow clouds that extended east to west.

As Saphira angled toward Helgrind, Eragon glanced to his left and discovered that, because of their elevation, he could see a broad swath of Leona Lake some miles distant. A thick layer of mist, gray and ghostly in the pre-dawn glow, emanated from the water, as if witchfire burned upon the surface of the liquid. Eragon tried, but even with his hawk-like vision, he could not make out the far shore, nor the southern reaches of the Spine beyond, which he regretted. He had not laid eyes upon the mountain range of his childhood since leaving Palancar Valley.

Right now I cannot put too much more on the site, but if you hold on, I'll add it ASAP. But for you who have yet to read this, here's a summary of what happens after this section.

Eragon and Roran make it to Helgrind.

Eragon finds out that there is an invisible entrance.

They go in.

They hear a noise.

A Lethrblaka attacks Eragon.

He passes out.

Saphira gets pissed.


	5. What was found at Du Weldenvarden

A vast shadow flashed over the emerald sea of forest. This was accompanied by a soft rumble and the steady thud of wings, flapping through the air; the only noise in the vast, eerie, endless mass of trees.

The sun glinted off the owner of the shadow; casting red light on the land bellow. Hundreds of rubies came together to form the lithe body of a dragon. Everything about this beautiful creature was formidable. Three inch long fangs rested in his jaw. His claws were so hard, they could easily scratch diamond. His tough hide of glinting ruby armor was the hardest substance know to man, dwarf, and it was rumored, even elf. This dragon had thick legs and a stubby body. He was built for power and speed. Cords of muscles rippled beneath his skin with each flap of his wings. Sharp, white spikes ran down his spine, coving every inch-except for a two or three foot gap where the corded muscles of his shoulders met his long snaky neck. A tough, fat leather strap was fastened around this part of his scaly neck. In that space, on the leather, sat a man garbed in heavy wine-red armor.

He had his helmet in his left hand while the right held fast to a white spike. A red scabbard that held a sword red as his dragon was fastened to a black belt. The sword wasn't just anyone's sword. It was an Elven sword crafted for a cruel, deadly, crazy man. The leader of the Foresworn, as a matter of fact. Sharp, stern, brown eyes gleamed out behind thick, defined black brows. Not a hint of a smile rested on his face, but not exactly a frown. His thick, blackish-brown hair rippled in the gust that surged on him with each beat of the dragon's wings.

Other that gust, the air was still and stale. The two felt like they were flying indoors. The dragon had to work extra hard to stay afloat. The sky above was bright blue, but ahead were dark storm clouds and a veil of rain. They would likely as not have to stop before they reached the storm. But before they did, they hoped the might find what they were looking for.

Four sharp eyes searched for a gap in the trees. Anything abnormal. They searched for a city. An Elven city. It was rumored to be around here somewhere. Maybe in the trees. The dragon snapped his jaws with bone breaking force in his frustration. He want to fight something. As the man shifted in his saddle, clutching the sword with blood lust, it became apparent he wished for the same. But the order was to find it, nothing more; though both itched for battle. All they saw, though, was the same old boring pattern of trees; each one a bit brighter and healthier then the last.

_It's got to be here someplace. Look at those trees! No way we can't be getting close. _The man thought.

The Elven lands were endless. It was dangerous to be there, as he was their enemy and elves were fierce foes. But the reason for his gaze to be anywhere near here had nothing to do with them. It was deeper then difference in race. It was an ancient battle taken to epic proportions.

It was not them he sought …or feared. It was the one with hair of molten bronze and pure brown eyes and a lustrous sapphire-scaled dragon whom followed him. Only he had Elven abilities and ears pointed like an elf but was not he himself one. He whom had immense power. He was skilled in the magical arts, taught by the elves themselves and the last Dragon Rider. It was said he had been the first Rider ever to use magic at such a young age. He was so profoundly skilled with a sword, that if allowed to fight the man not even remotely tired, he could easily kill him. He was sure of this. He was a dangerous, terrible enemy…as well as the one he could call brother and not tell a lie in this. 'Twas true. The Riders had added to an already fierce battle, sibling rivalry.

His dragon was one to be feared just as much. She had a very lithe body and was fine-boned. She was far more graceful on land and water then any other dragon alive today; including his own. She neared thirty feet in length, though he couldn't be quite sure as he had only just barely seen her in battle. Her height was in the high teens. Her claws were sharp and harder then her younger counterpart, which seemed almost impossible, and her teeth were nearly half-a-foot long at the fang. The timber of her voice was enough to make even a war-hardened soldier flee with soiled garments. Her spikes were hard white knives; capable of piercing through bone like butter. Her glinting blue armor was often strengthened by thick, heavy dwarven dragon armor. And her tail could clear an entire forest with one deadly swipe. She was, though the male dragon never admitted it, very beautiful. But he did think it.

He imaged could them with perfect clarity. If only they knew how he felt! Then maybe they'd see what he was instead of what he could be. He wished not to be their enemy. But to truly be a family member. To belong. To feel safe as he closed his eyes to sleep. To have someone to share the burden he felt.

He was Murtagh, son of Morzan and Selena, burdened to forever have the blood of the leader of the Forsworn in his veins. The pain he'd endured from that monster was written crystal clear in a curved scar found between his heavy shoulder blades. And what's no less by the very sword he now carried. He was always treated like an outcast. He was untrustworthy by the blood of his father. He had thought, for so long, he was alone in this. Then came the bitter-sweat revelation that he wasn't. Eragon was son of Morzan and Selena as well. He had felt none of that terrible pain Murtagh had endured; but he was still his blood brother. But it came too late. He was more is brother when he hadn't known it then he was now, when he had been forced in to servitude forever by Galbatorix, their main enemy. And how could his brother ever forgive him for such treachery. How could he prove to-

A sharp, light emerald gleam yanked him out of his thoughts and back to reality. It glittered sharply in the sunlight. The gleam was too bright to see clearly. He quite couldn't make out what it was.

Could it be?

Was it _He_?

No, just a bird…wait not a bird. A wyren, a cheap imitation of a dragon that was about a forth smaller. He knew wyrens were lighter colored and very rare. But they loved to show off Few could breathe fire, but many could breathe ice. Some could do both, even at the same time. But it was a rare trait, said to be only in the royal wyren blood lines. They normally lived further north though. So what was this one doing here? Most wyrens, he knew, had many good traits. But most wyrens were weaker then dragons. And less intelligent. They couldn't mind-speak, or if they could, they kept it a secret.

The wyren dove in and out of the clouds and trees, probably hunting. It dove low, pulling up just in time to only whack its tail against a tough tree. A few birds flew out of the tree; shirking with surprise as they tried to get the wyren away from their nest. It wasn't long till wyren gave chase to them. It moved its streamlined body fast on their tails. The weakest one, with a broken wing, prepared for the sting of death as the wyren's vicious jaws came into reach of the bird's back feathers. But to its surprise, and relief, the bite never came. Instead, the wyren sped past the group; moving so fast, they didn't know where it went. And the green scales easily blended in with the forest. The tricky devil stopped and hid in the high branches. As the birds started to pass, it flew out with four powerful strokes. The birds turned at the last second, but one faltered.

It was all the wyren needed to catch the tip of its wing in its jaws. The little white bird screamed in distress. It had been so careful. As the bird in the middle, it had expected not to get caught. Yet here it was in the wyren's grip. The wyren's scaly arm reached up and grabbed it out of its jaws so it could have a proper grip; cutting it in several places with its sharp claws.

The bird frantically peeped in distress. It struggled against the scale claws, lengthening its cuts. The wyren's head moved in on its head and bit into it. The peeping stopped. The wyren quickly ate it with gusto. A small amount of red covered its muzzle. It licked the remaining blood up.

Then, with a quiet growl it started diving again on the remaining birds, finding the exact tree and using the exact same method. On each dive, the sun gleamed on the bright lime scales, casting green hexagons on its shadow bellow.

_Not that I don't like to watch birds dye or anything, but can we go? What are you looking at anyway?_

His red mount, Thorn by name, spoke up. It was strange as he rarely spoke. When dragons speak, they speak in the minds of their riders; as no one can understand their language.

_Look, between its shoulders… What is that?_

Murtagh saw it too. His eyes strained. The gleam of the wyren's scales made it hard to see. But as the wyren stopped to eat another one of its catches, he was able to see it much better.

It was small, no more then a speck on a lime swirl of wyren. He could distinguish darker parts of it he hadn't seen yet, for it blended well into the wyren. A small tough of brown swirled about with the beat of the wings. A larger amount of peach stood fairly still.

Then the wyren, finished with that bird, dove, fast and sudden and the shape almost fell off. It stopped and nuzzled the shape back into position, then went back to hunting

A soft, sad cry broke through the air, like a baby whining to its mother to come get it. It stopped again to comfort it. It stayed still like this, flapping its wings long after the crying stopped. Then finally it went back to hunting.

_Let's investigate._

Murtagh thought so to not give them away their position. The wyren would run away from the ruby dragon, so they'd need all the surprise they could get.

Thorn angled his body in direct path of the wyren. He then stopped beating his wings and tucked them against his body. He made a quick, noiseless dive. His streamlined body pushed against the air, making a soft, low humming sound. Murtagh's heart raced with the thrill of the dive. He always did love the feeling. Soon they could hear the thud of the wyren's wings on the air. The wyren caught another bird. As it paused to eat it, it looked up a second too late.

The force of a one-and-a-half ton dragon plowed into it; catching its tail in his jaw, the sudden force making it dropped its still alive catch. The little bird sped away; glad to still be alive, peeping to its family to spread the good news. The fangs drove deep into the wyren's tough hide. They gleamed with delight as they drew thick red blood.

The wyren screamed, loud and piecing, disturbing the serenity of the scene. Any other noises were blocked from Thorn and Murtagh's ears. The wyren struggled with sharp claws. One rammed the corner of Thorn's eye, making a terrible screech and Thorn roared so loud and full, the wyren stopped screaming and started trembling.

_There! That cry again!_ Murtagh exclaimed as a soft wail rose through the silence. _Let me see its back._

Without a word, Thorn pulled the trembling wyren back towards his rider. As soon as Thorn moved though, the wyren began to struggle again. A stray claw clipped Murtagh's out-stretched arm and pulled down, ripping blood, flesh, and muscle from elbow to wrist. Thorn and Murtagh roared in shared pain; giving the wyren the distraction it needed to pull away. It slipped out of Thorn's jaw like a cork from a bottle, sudden release of force popping it out hard and fast. Long stripes of red extended down to the tip of his tale, left by Thorn's teeth peeling off the scales and outer flesh.

Murtagh cursed and then reached for his magic and uttered one word, "Aaloyi." And with that, he healed his arm.

Then he focused on the wyren who was busy flying away. It had covered a great distance in that short time and Murtagh was impressed. Never the less, the little brute had hurt his arm and would have to pay in time.

"Letta." He said and the wyren froze in mid air. It couldn't move. Murtagh sensed its anguish and gave a cold, cruel smile.

Thorn lazily flew to the green creature, its eyes darting here, dashing there. Then green eyes focused the on the two, piecing through them, searching their souls for any small glint of kindness.

Those eyes. Those eyes! They were more dragon-like then any creature he'd ever met. And its other features were so dragon-like, he'd have sworn it was a young fledgling dragon if he didn't know any better. Its claws, teeth, spikes, tail. All were far more then a little dragon like. Not only that, but it seemed much larger then it had at first. Still to small to be an adult dragon, but it was closer then should be. In Murtagh's studies, he'd been told they were smaller then this and less dragon like… With great effort, he peeled his attention from the wyren and to the sleeping blob on his back.

It was a baby. No surprise there. Its skin was a soft, smooth, creamy peach. She was obviously a girl; wearing a dress-like outfit made of fresh emerald leaves. They appeared to be alive, like they simply grew onto her. The baby stirred. She opened her big, emerald-shaped-and-colored green eyes. A tough of silky brown hair blew in a light breeze, the first all day. The hair that was moved revealed pointed ears.

_An elf!_

_We should kill it!_

Murtagh looked down at Zar'roc, misery, his blade. It would be in its nature to commit such a heinous crime. He put one hand on it and slowly unsheathed it. It was a beautiful blade, despite the crimes it was used for. It screamed for blood. Murtagh gave a twisted smile as he remembered the last time he'd used it. He'd stolen it from Eragon then. And before that, it was used to give him his scar. How ironic. He once had been nearly killed by it, and now it was his greatest weapon. Thorn gave a low growl.

_Except you, boy._ He chortled.

Thorn gave a satisfied nod. _Just get it over with, Murtagh. Before Eragon comes and we can't anymore._

Murtagh turned his attention back to the little elf. He gave her a cold, emotionless stare. She stared right back with an uncontrollable spirit. She blew a large bubble. It broke off into three. Murtagh gasped. It could have been his imagination, but he saw things in the bubbles.

In one, her saw himself as a happy father, bouncing a beautiful young lady on his lap, laughing as she said something silly.

In another, he saw himself on the top of a mound of bloody bodies with a sword stained in their lives. He was faintly crying.

In the last, he saw his reflection. A cold man stared back at him, with a menacing look on his face and wielding an evil looking sword. As he watched, through gentle changes and modifications, instead of himself he saw his father. He saw a greedy, evil tyrant who cared for no one, not even his flesh and blood. He frowned at the image as he sheathed Zar'roc. He didn't see it, but the image changed till it looked like Eragon.

The images grew, larger and larger till finally, they popped. She gave a sad look and babbled a bit. Then she looked at him with her cute green eyes. He almost unconsciously touched her consciousness. A pastel rainbow danced though his head. Light pinks, reds, blues, yellows, golds, greens, and purples rippled in a pond of color.

He couldn't. He wouldn't.

…_No. I mean, she's just a harmless baby._

_It's our duty!_

_Our job, was to find Eragon. Not kill harmless baby elves._

_It is one in the same! She won't stay harmless!_

…_No… but she doesn't know any better. For all she knows, she is on our side._

The little elf reached up, begging to be held. He picked her up and tucked her next to him.

_We shouldn't do this…you're gonna regret it…_

_Probably. But for now, I'll regret not bringing her._

_I will say no more. But if she pees of poops on me…_

He blew a steady, hot torrent of flames. The wyren gulped and began squirming even more then ever. Murtagh felt his magic was being strained.

_We'll have a little elf-roast. Got it?_

_Ya but if you do that, we'll also be having a dragon roast to go with it._

They slowly began flying away. The wyren struggled to move, but not away from them; towards them. Murtagh's eyes showed a hint of worry. It may unleash its fire or ice on them or if they were extremely unlucky, both.

Murtagh released the spell on the wyren when he was a good distance away. Turned toward them and gave a low, benign hiss. Its emerald eyes seemed to cuss them.

A female voice came into his head, surprising him. He looked around. No elves. No anybody. It had to be the wyren. The voice was low and strong and had a tinge of malice in it.

_If you hurt her…_

Then the wyren did something terrifying. It blew out fire…but not just fire. At the core of the flame, a blizzard stormed. He wasn't sure if it was just hot or if it was ice. What ever it was, it wouldn't feel good to get hit with…

He worried she would follow them, but she did not. Instead, she disappeared with the blink of and eye back into the forest.

Murtagh and Thorn were silent on the trip back, shocked by the wyren's display of anger. Thorn was able to fly much faster, as there was a wind and they were moving with it.

The sea of evergreens quickly began getting scarcer, blotchier. Soon forest opened up to prairies, prairies to mountains to rivers, rivers to lakes.

Near dusk, Murtagh and Thorn saw a familiar sight. Mount Ralivine. They flew over its icy peak to behold Onyx gates. They had reached the black city of Uru'baen.


	6. My morning star

**I do not own Eragon or Eldest. If I did, it wouldn't be so successful.**

Murtagh could feel the pains of his most hated "master's" fists, spears, and whips again as he saw the city come into full view. He had flashbacks in his waking and sleeping hours of the night after the Burning Plains. A night he'd come to call the "night of the bloody fist."

Flashback. About a month and a half a week ago.

"I'm sorry! But I couldn't!" Murtagh whimpered through the pain. Galbatorix came at him with an evil eye, punching him hard across the face. It drew plenty of blood which sprayed across the room on Thorn, who was in chains and a muzzle. He glared hard at Galbatorix as he tried to shield Murtagh from the terrible pain.

"You're not sorry…yet! And yes you could have! All I did was tell you to do one thing! One small favor! And you can't even do that! You let your weak heart get to you! Your father would have never failed me so! He wouldn't have even dared!" He kicked him in the gut with his steel toed shoes. Murtagh stumbled away, trying to avoid the next blow. But he was too slow. Murtagh regained part of his strength and rolled behind a wall to protect himself.

"One small favor?" he spat, trying to seem tough. But in the stead of spit, blood came. "If you can call beating my own brother and then dragging him before a madman small! I don't have a weak heart; you just don't have any compassion left in yours! And I never have been like him! And I don't plan to start now! He was a cold, heartless man! My mom was right in sending Eragon away! I just wish she had done the same for me!" Galbatorix's face turned so red, it looked like he'd burst.

He gave a cold, evil cry, "Biska!" And he disappeared. Murtagh stood up. His vision was slightly blurred from a sharp blow to the head. In the dark room, Galbatorix was nowhere to be seen. Murtagh felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he limped away from the corner. He could see a large blur of glinting red.

"Thorn…" he stammered. He limped forward to his dragon. Suddenly Thorn started rapidly thrashing. "What's wrong, Thorn?"

_Murtagh! Move! _He screamed through his head. Behind him, Murtagh heard a course yell and turned to see Galbatorix charging him; bloody fists clenched and eyes dilated.

"Defend yourself!" He shouted. Without warning, he threw a steel-plated punch across Murtagh's face. He cried out in pain as more blood sprayed out onto the dark, slippery floor.

Murtagh slipped on his own blood, falling to the ground with a loud thud. Galbatorix held out a cruel whip, lashing his skin hard. Long, deep, bloody wounds soon extended down the length of Murtagh's body. He cried out in pain as Galbatorix cracked the whip again on his bare back. Murtagh, on his hands and knees in the bloody mess, tried to pull himself to Thorn; all the while Galbatorix was cleaving all the blood and skin and hard, ropey muscles off his shoulders. He gave one more desperate cry then collapsed in pain. He just sat there, for hours, feeling the sting of the stale wind and the lash of the whip writhe across his torn back. Finally, he began to try again, somehow getting to his knees again to crawl to Thorn. Galbatorix aimed to kick him again, but he got too close to Thorn. The ruby dragon gave an ear splitting roar as he smashed his tail right into the foul demon.

He flew half way across the room while Thorn's massive head pushed forward to help his rider up. As Thorn nuzzled him, Murtagh found his feet. Unfortunately so did Galbatorix.

"Shruikan, pin him!" He yelled to the massive black monster. With the speed of an elf, he crossed the room to Thorn while Shruikan held him in the spot on all dragons that instantly immobilizes him, the tenth spike. Murtagh moved to help, but Shruikan's mighty black tail smashed into him, breaking some ribs and pinning him in one fluid action. Murtagh struggled to help Thorn while Thorn struggled to help Murtagh.

The dragon watched helplessly as Galbatorix waltzed right up to him. He pulled out a short, jagged blade and stuck it in the fire of a blazing torch. Then he took Thorn's last spike at the tip of his tail and not to mention most deadly for it was sharp, jagged, and was barbed with a mild poison. All male dragons have this trait.

Then, to Thorn and Murtagh's horror, he took the red, molten hot blade out of the fire with his bare hands and burned it right through Thorn's outer skin. It drew deep red blood as the ruby dragon and his rider roared in shear agony.

"You like? Its wyren scale, the only thing hard enough to easily break a dragon's skin." He dug the dagger in deeper, twisting and turning as he went, forming a round hole in the dragon's hide. Then he turned it side ways, pushing up on the hard spike. It made a screeching sound as he pried it from the dragon's skin. Thorn gave an outraged roar and Murtagh tried to endure the pain he felt to get to the villain as Shruikan let him up. When he did, Galbatorix's whole arm was drenched in blood as his fist clenched the dagger and spike.

Murtagh punched him with all the strength left in him. He felt the bones in his fists crack and his skin slice open at the hard blow. He cried out a bit. But Galbatorix stood perfectly still in a braced stance, not even having to step back to bar the pain of the blow.

Instead, he raised the dagger and spike and plowed it into Murtagh's thighs. He slowly ripped down, as if trying to unzip his skin and muscle from his bone. Murtagh cried out as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Tears formed in his eyes. Galbatorix smiled cruelly. Thorn gave an outraged roar through the muzzle. He blew flame on it, trying to burn threw.

Murtagh's vision blurred even more as he laid in the pooled of his and his dragon's blood. Purple bruises began to ache. Broken bones to burn. Cuts to sting. The pain became so mind boggling; he couldn't help but pass out. His last memory was of a warm form lying next to his and a clank of a closing door.

End flashback.

Almost everything had been healed now. All but his eyes. Occasionally, he'd go through spells where he completely lost his vision. And yet other times it was twenty-twenty. It all varied from time to time.

Murtagh gave his attention back to the city.

Though Murtagh thoroughly hated the city he was to remain imprisoned in for the rest of his life, he couldn't help but gape in wonder as the polished black gates inlaid with black and white diamonds, black topaz, and midnight sapphire revealed themselves. Even now, with the sun in the opposite direction, the gems glinted like black, blue, and white fires. On the inside, black cobblestone made the ground walked on and the buildings, if not made of onyx or slate, were the make of black cherry wood. When the city was first made, the whole thing smelled like cherries. Now the air was a foul, sticky black from all the fires in the city left to burn since when Galbatorix took the city. Eyes gazed on the gods' greatest wonders, with all the beauty in sculptures and carvings. Ears heard an average city, guards yelling to each other, gates opening and closing, horse hooves clanking on cobblestone. But the nose smelled the city for what it was, foul fumes invading the smell, manure and sewage everywhere, and some strange, ugly smell everywhere that was decay from murders and mold.

The guards quickly part the gate as Thorn paced into the city, not wanting to loose their jobs…or their lives. Crowds dissolved before them, all falling silent as the blood-colored dragon moved, completely silent expect for the soft scratch of claws on the cobblestone.

Murtagh put on his helmet to hide his features so people he knew but that didn't know he was a Rider yet wouldn't recognize him. He'd prefer to not have so many enemies. He tucked the little elf closer so no one would see her ears. She woke and fixed her cute eyes on a brown horse with a flaxen mane and tail that touched the black cobblestones.

"Hors-see." She said in a very musical voice. It was like waves dancing on bells.

Someone from in the crowd said, "Awe…."

Thorn gave a low growl and the person's mouth lost the words it once had.

_Thorn, stop. Hold on._

Obediently Thorn stopped.

Murtagh untied his legs from the stirrups and slid down the side with the horse. It was a young stallion. He addressed the man holding the lead.

"That's a fine horse. May I see him?"

The man, wordlessly, handed him the lead. The horse pulled against Murtagh a bit. He was a remarkable creature. Hard, ropey muscles rippled beneath brown skin. Solid irony hooves held up his heavy form. His head was refined, thin ears pricked high in the air, a high bowled head with a bright, hard white star on the top. In the center of the star was a coal black spot. His wide set, big brown eyes focused on the group. All senses seemed to be focusing on the massive dragon just ahead. His pink nostrils flared as he approached. The halter he wore was made of plain double rounded burlap. His owner was definitely not that rich.

He held out the elf, careful to keep her ears hidden. He marveled at how her hair was almost the same color as his. It flowed in the breeze, intertwining till there was no telling the two apart. She held out her tiny hands and the horse moved to touch her little fingers. Murtagh felt her rainbow grow intense as her hand made contact with the great stallion's nose. The horse trembled slightly. Then he sneezed, covering her in a mist of mucus. She giggled and a smile curved her little lips. She loved this animal. He smiled as he watched her stroke the inviting muzzle.

"My daughter seems to have taken a liking to your horse. How much for him?"

"T-t-two hundred s-s-s-ilver coins, Argetlam." The man replied in a nervous tone.

Murtagh pulled out three hundred gold coins.

"Keep the change. Have him sent to the palace. And clean him up."

"Yes, Argetlam." The man managed to say without hesitation.

Murtagh got onto Thorn and they marched off together. The crowd was left murmuring and the man with the horse started laughing in awe. Normally no one was ever to associate with a Rider. They were too powerful; their actions were too unpredictable.

_That was a gutsy move. _Thorn commented in disgust as they paced around a sharp corner._ Calling that thing your daughter. What if someone saw her ears?_

Murtagh shook his head. _What if you hadn't hatched for me? I'd just be a guy raising an elf. And don't call her a thing._

_Yes Argetlam. _Thorn answered mockingly.

Murtagh ignored him and focused on the baby. She would grow fast, as all elves do. Girls took around one and a half months before the stopped growing so fast. By the end of that time, they'd look like humans do at fifteen. Elven children were so rare, it was essential they grew fast so they could live. They grow faster then humans and dragons.

At a year they could use magic. Before then, they couldn't. They could learn the ancient language, but that part of their brain wouldn't mature till then. That was also the time they became mature sexually. But most would never have a child. A child is the ultimate vow of love. Marriage was just a ceremony, but this was an eternal bond. It was illegal to divorce after a child was born in Elven customs.

_You need a name._ Murtagh said with her silent rainbows flowing in his head. He'd been thinking of a few names; Selena, Arva, Rasha, Rissia, Molvoria, Solima, and many others had all not fit. He seriously considered Selena, after his mother. But that brought back painful memories, his mothers last days and how he became an orphan. He loved her so much and missed her every day, but he couldn't spend all day thinking about her. He had to be strong. Otherwise, Galbatorix would pick him off like frog would a fly. And thinking of his mother made him feel weak. One, truly painful memory slipped into his mind.

Flashback. Seventeen years and three months earlier.

"No mom! Don't go!" A toddler yelled out to his mother. He looked maybe three.

A beautiful lady turned around as he yelled. She had sharp brown eyes and bright red hair flowing in slightly frizzy waves to her shoulders. Her brows were unnaturally light, though that made her no less beautiful. Her large, pouting pink lips smiled at the young boy staring at her with large brown eyes.

She went to him, clasping him in her arms. Her arms held him so tight; it was like they thought if they held him tight enough, she couldn't be pried from him.

Behind her, a dark-haired man stood. He had a constant scowl on his face, though he was still handsome even with it. His almost black-brown eyes gazed impatiently at his wife, wanting to get moving. Behind him, a giant, maroon dragon snarled, displaying large, evil fangs. "Easy, Zar." The man murmured to the monster. The toddler shuddered under the two's gaze. Then his father paced impatiently. He snarled under his breathe, "That little brat is a mistake. One I should have never made and will never ever make again…"

The toddlers ears caught these words and he began to cry.

"Listen, Murtagh," she cooed gently to clam his sobs, "I'll never leave you."

Murtagh sniffled. "Never?"

"Never-ever." She said, nuzzling him gently with her nose. "You may not be able to see me, but I'll be there. And here's proof." she pulled out a silver pendant shaped like the morning star, Aiedail, and gently placed it on his neck. "This has been passed down in my family for generations. It brings you good luck. And even if you try, you can't loose it. Nor shall you loose me. So, my first born son, I give this to you. When you raise a family, give it to your first born. And I do promise you it works." She tickled him gently. He gave a light giggle to her soft hand.

"Selena! We've got to go! Now!" the man yelled.

"Coming!" she yelled back. Then, under her breath, she added, "The piece of work that is your father! Promise me you'll never turn out like him."

"I promise, mommy." He replied.

"That's my boy." She smiled, "Now, are you going to be good for your nana?" Murtagh nodded. Selena began to walk away, then turned back to say, "Okay. I love you honey!"

"I love you, mommy." He almost whispered back as she disappeared with Morzan on her tail. He clutched his new charm.

End flashback.

It shone in the morning light. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it till now. But he did always have it with him. And it was lucky.

Flashback. Three months ago.

He held his good luck charm in his hand. Bruises covered his body. Blood seeped out from beneath his cuts. He ached all over. The shackles on his wrists were digging into them. If only his hand was just a little thinner! He cringed as his arms stained to free themselves.

The door clanked. Murtagh froze. He knew he couldn't take many more beatings. So he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

"I know you're awake…" came a cold, snake like voice. Murtagh opened his eyes. Before him were two richly dressed men. Both looked like the other, despite their differences in clothing choice. One gave a low snicker. These were the Twins, traitors to the Varden and loyal to the king. "Our master desires your presence at supper."

"How much more does he want from me?" Murtagh mumbled.

One of the Twins caught his words. "A lot."

"If you're lucky." The other one added.

"Absolutely nothing if…"

"…you're not."

"Okay…"Murtagh mumbled.

The twins pulled out a key and unlocked his shackles. "And don't try anything funny…" One said

"Cause you won't end up being the one who's laughing…" the other added. Then they made an orderly exit, single file. Murtagh was in between the two.

He followed them out the door. He had long since stopped trying to navigate the palace. So he just followed the backs of the twin ahead of him's shiny bald head.

Suddenly, as he passed a door, something started burning. Murtagh threw his charm up in surprise. The little shiny piece of silver flew up in the air. It landed with a light jangle, going right under a door. Murtagh followed it, despite the twin's protests. He opened the door to see it lying on the floor. He smiled in relief. The burning stopped abruptly.

"You're not supposed to be in here! This room is-" he, his brother, and Murtagh froze in their places. In the center of the room was a deep red stone. It caught the light in a radiant way, sending it riveting across the room. It was massive, shaped into a perfect oval and polished so brightly, it would make a sword's steel jealous.

Murtagh couldn't exactly explain what it was, but he was drawn to it. It was like a dream. No matter what words of magic the twins uttered or how they protested, they could not stop Murtagh from touching the stone. They followed him to the stone.

One of them gasped, the other just had a toothy smile on his face.

"So you are to be like your father." Said the one that was smiling. He gestured to the white line spider webbing the egg's surface. They hadn't been there before Murtagh had touched the egg, but now they were clear as Leona Lake.

"What's so special about them?" Murtagh asked. Though part of him already knew the answer.

"White lines only appear on dragon eggs when the one destined to be their rider touches it." Came a booming voice. A form stood in the door way. It was shadowed and none of his features were clear, but it was known to all who he was. Galbatorix.

End flashback

_I can't keep reliving the past. _Murtagh told himself, angry he had even thought of it. _She really needs a name._

He ran his hands through her hair and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was rhythmic. The rainbow in his head was slowed, yet more beautiful then ever. They flowed softer and shone brighter. The leaves she was wearing seemed to be dying, like being away from the forest could kill them. He moved every hair from behind her dainty head, one strand at a time.

Suddenly his hand brushed against cold metal. He looked down to see light, shiny gold chain around her neck. He picked it up slowly. Something heavy was on the other end. He pulled it further up to reveal a giant golden locket. It twinkled in the new moon light. The gold was embroidered with green vines circling a simple, elegantly crafted word.

"Aiedail?" He read aloud. The baby opened her big, green eyes as if to say "What?" It fit perfectly. The star brought him hope that someday he could be in the same room with his brother with out fighting. It gave him hope that someday he could be free and he and Thorn could answer to no man's rule but their own. Aiedail did just the same as the star itself. Plus, even now at such a young age, she was so beautiful that she lit up the whole room.

"Aiedail it is then." He whispered softly. He got a cascade of satisfied rainbow.

Then they were there. The black palace. Kurmoshkow. It was made of shear onyx of the finest quality. It was inlaid with black diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. When the king had made the palace, he had expected the last four dragons in the world to be on his side, so he inlaid his palace with gems of all color the known existing dragon eggs. The black diamonds were bigger then all others. The palace had four, sky high towers, each holding flag halved so one side was black, the other red. A fierce half maroon(on the black side) and half black(on the red side) dragon adorned it. It gushed an orange and yellow tongue of flame. The palace was so dark, it almost went unseen in the black night if not for the occasional touch holding a flower of dim golden flame. The palace swarmed with guards; who gave fearful glances in the increased shadows as they let the molten red dragon in the palace gates.

From a tower, four, cold, black eyes focused on the three. The dragon and the rider came as no surprise to be here. But what of the little elf? Who was she? Who sent her? Was she meant to be here? Was she the one whose coming had been foretold? She was a real mystery. There were too many questions about her and not enough answers.

A cruel smile came to his face. Yes. A brilliant idea. Murtagh's little "Aiedail," could be of great use to him…


	7. Guess who

I do not own Eragon or Eldest. If I did, it wouldn't be so successful.

A large pair of big, chocolate eyes flicked open. Light brown curls brushed past them. Their owner tried to move his arms to get the hair out of his way, but was stopped by a hard pull coming from above him. This was accompanied by the loud clank of metal against metal. He looked up to see a pair of chains that were welded to the wall. He looked down their lengths to find them, sure enough, attached to cold, metal shackles on his wrists. He pulled hard on the chains, but to no avail.

Across from him sat a beautiful, copper-haired girl. She looked thin, as though she hadn't been fed well. Her face was dirty, but there were no blemishes or wound on it. She had her eyes closed, but, since he knew her, he knew they looked like the color of a crystal spring never seen by man or beast. Her rosy lips were dry and cracked and tiny beads of deep, red blood covered the cracks. Her arms looked pale and weak, like they hadn't rested for months. Small, purple splotches told a horrific tale. The boy winced. It was all his fault.

The suffering she must have endured… he could only imagine. He had been wounded by their captors once. It took him weeks to heal. He swore the skin they kicked still looked purple, though it was nearly a year ago. Before his brother betrayed him, before he found out he was a monster's son, before this girl was imprisoned. What he faced then seemed trivial compared to now.

Then, he and his brother were friends. Then they were true brothers…but hadn't known. Now that they had, they were enemies. It wasn't fair. He took a moment and curse Thorn for hatching for him. He cursed Galbatorix for holding him prisoner. He cursed his brother for not being stronger. He cursed many people, but mostly, he cursed himself. For not seeing through the twins. For not moving fast enough to save him. For giving up too soon. For not having the courage to kill him. For smiling every time he heard his name, despite the situation. And, lastly, for bounding with him.

He moved his eyes on, finally, when he heard something slightly stir. He gazed on his cousin. He couldn't help but smile. To him, they weren't cousins, but rather brothers. His curly, brown locks seemed a bit dirty. He imagined his brown eyes open for a second, staring at his beautiful fiancé, who slept next to him. He reflected on how much he'd changed. His muscles were huge now. A slight beard grew on his face. And, when his eyes were open, he had a fresh soldiers look. He's seen some blood, but not enough to harden him…yet.

Of course, his cousin wasn't the only one who's changed, he reflected. He now had the look and abilities of that of an elf. He was now a hardened dangerous warrior, a powerful spell caster, and most significantly, a Dragon Rider.

He looked around the dark room. Soft, red lights, similar to the ones in Farthern Dur, gleamed. The room was around twelve feet from floor to ceiling. The width was maybe seven feet, the length around fifteen. It was a typical dungeon. The air was stale and no breeze came to relieve the hotness of it. He figured they were still in Helgrind.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, something stirred. He turned to face the motion; friend or foe. Instead of a large, shiny shell, cloaked all over, and foul breath of the Ra'zac, the girl's tired blue eyes opened. They made a happy, confused, tired, sad, and fearful smile upon seeing the young boy.

"Who…Who are you?" she groaned with a bit of an apprehensive look in her eyes. She knew an elf when she saw one. And, as far as she knew, the elves were on her side. But there was something… different about this one. And something familiar…

"How are you feeling, Katrina?" She froze at the sound of her name.

"How do you know my name? Wait…Eragon?" he nodded at her. "….how…when…"

"We came to rescue you, Katrina."

"Nice job." She smile, "Wait…we?"

She turned and for the first time noticed her fiancé. Her eyes lit up. She grabbed him, sticking to him like a magnet with a magnet. Eragon couldn't help but smile. She really did love him.

She squeezed him tightly and gave a worried frown when he didn't wake He seemed still thoroughly out cold. That worried Eragon. Not just that either. Dried blood cracked on his skin. A hug, blackish purple bruise adorned his head. He'd clearly been hit…and hard…

"Oh no, they're back!" exclaimed Katrina.

"Who's ba…" Eragon paused to hear the loud thud of wings

Then came the most unearthly sound he'd ever heard. It was kind of like the roar of a dragon. Beside him, there came a low rubble in response and he realized for the first time, his dragon was here too. Her scales were a beautiful burnished sapphire. Even in the low light, the gleam of her scales screamed, "Notice me!" Long white spikes ran down her spine, except for the gap Eragon was meant to ride in. It could carry two or three passenger in this spot. She was around fifteen feet tall and, from her head to the tip of her tail, twenty-seven feet long. She had to scrunch up in the tiny space. Cruel chain held her beautiful neck down. She yawned, her mouth gaping and displaying her six inch fangs. Katrina gaped as she noticed their giant friend. She would have fainted if she hadn't already seen the lethrblaka, who looked much scarier then this.

_Saphira! I missed you. _He said to her with a toothy smile. Behind him, Katrina made a disgusted sound. She was clearly not too found of dragons.

_As have I._ She replied, giving a similar gesture. Katrina had to really hold it in to keep from shrieking.

Eragon groaned. His head hurt from speaking to Saphira; which was very strange.

_How are you feeling, little one._ She asked, sensing her rider's discomfort.

_Better then any other time I've gotten capture actually. My head hurts a little, but I'll live. _

Something hit him. He shouldn't be able to talk to Saphira. Unless they didn't drug him. But what motives did they have for not drugging him? Was it some sort of test? He wondered if he should dare try magic. He reached out for it. The familiar barrier was there. He broke it down. So far so good. He had a little trouble with the word, but then one came to his mind that was just what he needed.

He uttered a simple word, "Jierda."

The chains broke! He ran to Saphira. _Nice thought, little one._ She said as he uttered, "Jierda." And broke her chains.

Then he swiftly moved to Katrina. She sat, gazing without an end at the sapphire dragon before her. She seemed very frightened. No matter what Eragon did, she wouldn't move. Her chains broke just the same. Eragon, noting she still wasn't moving, shook her shoulders.

"Katrina! Come on! We have to move." She shook out of it and moved alright; she moved as far from Saphira as possible. Eragon rolled his eyes as he uttered the final spell to free them all.

Then he focused. He heard the drips of cave water on the floor. There was the clank of steel on rock and the groan of slaves as they worked their backs off. Finally, taking up most of the noise, was the sound of a fight. Six were involved. Three fought like humans, three like dragon. Four on two, or so it sounded like. The two were winning. Where were all those noises coming from? His keen ears realized most of the noise was coming from the west wall. One of the figures ducked and rolled toward the door; only to be stopped by a beast's blow. They were in the middle of a war! They'd needed a way out and fast!

_Saphira, tap your tail against every wall but the west one. I want to see if they are hollow and, if so, if any of them are thin enough for you to break through._

So Saphira tried all the walls while Eragon tried, mostly in vain, to calm Katrina.

"What is that thing?" She asked. Saphira started to give her a warning but stopped when Eragon glared at her.

"A dragon."

"I can see that, wise one. But what's it doing here? And what in Alagaesia is it doing?"

"Ah-"

_The south wall is hollow. And it's less then two inches thick._ Saphira said proudly.

"Katrina, take Roran and get yourself out. Saphira," Eragon gestured to her, "will take you. Wait for me by Leona Lake."

Katrina started to protest, but Saphira grabbed her. She started screaming and Eragon heard an increase in the noises outside. Saphira easily broke through the thin wall and burst out of the mountain.

_Be careful._ She yelled back.

Eragon reached for his magic and said, "Esto roti el'vo." And in front of him, the rock turned to liquid and began to mold. Soon it took the shape of a sword. He took it and assumed a battle stance that was firm and steady. Outside he heard muffled screams, shuffling, metal clanking on metal, and then…nothing. He heard nothing….

A large portion of stone moved suddenly. And there, in Helgrind's dungeon, stood a fair skinned elf with eyes like evergreens and hair like molten onyx. Arya.


	8. Escape from Helgrind

A smile appeared at her wine-red lips as her emerald eyes met Eragon's blue ones. She had her fine lithe sword out and was in a relaxed, yet steady, stance. Green blood dripped off her sword and a large gash ran down her arm. Her onyx cascade of hair was up in a pony tail and her vivid eyes had an amazing amount of life and love in them. She wore a modestly loose, white long sleeved shirt that fanned out at the end. Over it, she had on a tight, white leather vest that tied up. Swung across her chest was her amazing bow, tightly strung. A quiver of arrows fletched with pure white swan feathers hung on her back. Only four were left. She wore a loose, white skirt that flowed out like a flower.

"Not who you were expecting, was I."

"Ya I was expecting something ugly, not beautiful."

"There'll be time for complements later. Right now, we got to move. I only knocked the Ra'zac out. I didn't kill them. I knew how much you and Roran want that pleasure."

Eragon grinned. It was true. Roran would be mad if she were to deprive him of their blood. And Eragon, admit it of not, felt the exact same way.

"Now call, Saphira." She said gently.

_Saphira, come pick us up._

_Us?_

_Just do it._

As he waited, Eragon tried to think of something to say to Arya that would not offend her. She was running her dainty white fingers through her hair; carefully removing dirt and anything else gnarled in her glossy black hair. He could smell the sweet pine that clung to her and intoxicated his senses. She leaned against the wall; her whole body seeming at ease.

He walked over and leaned against the wall right beside her. He gave her a crooked smile; staring deep into her green eyes as he fidgeted a bit and gave a low sigh. She would not look him in the eye. He shuffled his feet a bit, and then turned his attention to the gaping hole. It felt like Saphira was taking forever; however it had been less then a minute since he talked to her.

He turned to gaze at Arya. Her fair white skin sparkled it the low light. As her looked upon her, he noticed some changes. Her eyes were more distant, sadder then ever. Massive indigo bags loomed under them. Her perfect skin wasn't as perfect anymore. It seemed loser. He wondered for a moment why she had changed. She seemed upset about something.

Then she caught Eragon's stares and gave a sweet smile. He smiled back but it dulled as he realized she still didn't look him in the eye. It was like she was ashamed; about only the gods know what but clearly ashamed.

Within a few more seconds, Eragon's keen ears caught the heavy thud of wings on the air. It grew in volume and soon a soft gust rushed through his hair. Then came the sight of his two ton dragon.

She gave her low, choppy growl Eragon recognized as laughter and displayed her white fangs for a toothy smile. He knew she was about to say something, so he gave her a cold stare. She caught it and was silenced. Arya, however, caught it too. She gave a puzzled look and shook her head. Eragon, seizing their belonging in the corner of the room, through on Saphira's saddle and quickly tided its lengthy tan leather straps around her girth He grasped two white spikes and pulled himself up.

"Aren't you coming?" Eragon asked when Arya didn't climb up after him. Then he realized how awkward it was that she should ride with him. He sighed.

"I-I have to get back to-" her sentence was cut short by a loud boom. This was followed by a course roar and a low hiss. Then, it all went quiet.

Arya hesitated a moment she looked scared, frozen in fear. Then came the shuffle of feet.

Arya scrambled onto Saphira fast. "Go!" she shouted.

Just as they were taking off, a Ra'zac appeared. Part of its normal black cloak was ripped and under it, Eragon saw a shiny black shell. Part of its shell was ripped open and oozing out a dark green blood. Gooey pink flesh showed in the parts that weren't too blood stained. A foul odor hung just above then. It was like rotten fruits and week dead carcass. It overpowered even the sweet scent which so strongly clung to Arya. Eragon wanted to through up.

"We will remember you, Dragon ridersssssss." It hissed. Then the other stumbled in, just as badly wounded.

Saphira, keen on not smelling that scent anymore, flew out fast. As they passed out of the prison hold, they looked down to see a terrible sight. Thousands of men in scare clothes, scars from whips, and dirt on their scars worked underneath them. One cheered as he saw the dragon. A full suited soldier paced to him. He raised a cruel looking whip and snapped it down upon his skin. The man cried out and continued working. Several men bore similar scars and many had hopeless eyes. They all mined, day and night. But for what? Eragon finally had to close his eyes. Behind him, Arya gave a light squeeze to his stomach.

"This is what becomes of those Galbatorix finds unworthy." She whispered. He opened his eyes to see a truly cruel sight. A man was lying in the mud, his face bloody and his eyes hopeless. He tried to get up, but stumbled with every attempted step. Tears were welded in his eye as a black-cladded soldier came upon him. He bore a sharp spear but held it in a weak stance. But it did not matter. His spear came down easily on the man, who struggled to get up. He thrashed as the spear impaled in his gut dug deeper. Blackish red blood poured on the earth, permanently tainting the soils. The man rolled and squirmed in pain. His squirming suddenly just stopped. No tears. No funeral. He was just gone.

Eragon could no bear it any longer. He turned, closing his eyes so not to see any more. Tears leaked beneath his lids, like a failed dam.

But soon, the currents changed. The air, instead of being humid, warm, and stuffy, was now cool, breezy, and light. Beams of warm sun streaked his lids, bathing is close-eyed vision in a glowing, warm red. He opened his eyes. For a moment, he had to squint. Then he saw Helgrind's barn hillside, not even a hint of life clinging to it. They winged away from the cursed dragon's bane.

Soon they could see Leona Lake and Katrina and Roran. Katrina was splashing water on his face. She had ripped off part of his dirty white shirt and used it to clean and dress his wounds. He finally flicked his big brown eyes open. Katrina tackled him, kissed him, and then screamed promptly as she saw Saphira. Roran jumped and screamed himself.

_The silly girl was in hysterics by the time we got to Leona Lake. I think I will go deaf if they both keep screaming like that every time they see me. It's already getting old._

Eragon started to laugh. Arya asked what Saphira had said. When she heard it, she started laughing too. Eragon loved her laugh. It was so beautiful.

Eragon and Arya got off both laughing. Loudly.

"Never…do that again!" Roran said, addressing Saphira.

"She says she's sorry." Eragon managed to say between the laughs.

"I guess I'll have to get used to this." Roran said smugly. Eragon raised his fist with a playful look in his eyes and the two started wrestling. Eragon quickly pinned him, but then was distracted by looking up to see if Arya had seen and Roran tackled him over.

"WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?! AN ELF? A DRAGON? WHEN DID I GET ON THE EMPIRE'S MOST WANTED LIST?!" Katrina screamed. The two stopped to look at her. Poor Katrina. She had no idea what had happened in these long last few months.

"It's a long story sweetheart..." Roran said.

"And we should get flying. The Ra'zac are going to be looking for me. And through me, you." Eragon added.

"Well, I have to go." Arya said.

"You're not coming with us?" Eragon said with dismay.

"Not that I wouldn't want to miss the scream fest or anything, but I have important things to do. And now that I'm done with the most important thing, I need to go. Plus I don't think Saphira can carry more then three without carrying one in her claws. I don't want to force anyone into getting scratches from her claws. And I do have my own ride." She gestured to a magnificent white stallion who was calmly standing in the background.

Without another word, she fluidly moved to the stallion and swung on to his back with one graceful motion. The stallion galloped off into the sun.

"You so have the hots for her." Roran teased.

"Shut up." Eragon replied, blushing.

"Who's cranky?" Roran joked.

"Hello...still don't know what is going on." Katrina stated impatiently.

"Right." They both said.

They both got onto Saphira. Katrina shook her head. "No, I won't ride that thing again till I get some answers." Saphira gave a low growl which promptly stopped when Eragon glared at her.

_You're not making this any easier, Saphira._

He thought for a moment and then got a good idea.

"Fine. I'm sure the Ra'zac want their prisoner back." Eragon said smugly. Roran punched Eragon in the arm. All the kidding stopped when they heard the same roar from earlier. Katrina screamed and quickly scrambled onto Saphira. Eragon wanted to laugh, but the Ra'zac were no laughing matter.

Saphira launched herself in the air and with two steady beats, was above tree level. She rose, higher and higher till she was cloud-level. Katrina held tight to Roran, who was holding on to Eragon. As Roran began to squeeze the air out of Eragon, he thought to Saphira,

_I'm going to have to teach him how to ride. I can't keep having him killing me every time I go riding with him._

Saphira started laughing. Katrina, thinking she was sick or something, asked,

"What's wrong with her?"

Eragon answer with a giggle, "Oh nothing. She's just laughing because I told her your fiancé here is squeezing the life out of me because he can't ride."

Roran quickly let go at this, not wanting Katrina to see. But the damage had already been done. She was laughing at him. He blushed and punched Eragon as hard as he could in the arm for ratting him out. The blow took Eragon by surprise and he cried out in pain. Saphira joined him with a high pitched scream. Saphira felt the pain and lurched forward, spinning around and around. Katrina lost her grip on Roran and screamed as her form began a swift descent towards the ground.

"Katrina!" Roran yelled. His fiancé was plummeting towards the rugged forest of Alagaesia.

_Saphira! We lost a passenger!_

_But it's so much quieter without her._ Saphira joked.

_Stop joking and go get her before she lands. _Eragon snapped.

She rushed after the falling girl and was quickly under her. Roran reach out for her hand and she clasped it. Soon he pulled her back into his arms. She was sobbing softly. She stayed there, in his arms for a long time. Then she spoke,

"That thing just tried to kill me!"

"Well if Roran hadn't punched me-"

"And I suppose you're going to tell me that hurt her too."

"Yes it actually did! Just as if you were to punch her, it would hurt me too! And if you had held on, you won't have fallen!"

"What ever. And is this saddle supposed to hurt so badly?"

"No actually. We can't ride for too long. It seems worn. The Ra'zac seam to have been messing around with the saddle. Saphira says she saw them with it while we were all out." Eragon stated.

"And you actually trust her?" Asked Katrina.

Eragon blinked at her, "With every part of my being. Like I trust the sun to rise and the moon to set." He seemed hurt. Saphira gave her a low growl.

_Thank you for standing up for me._

_What? It's true._

She gave a happy, satisfied nod.

_Saphira, don't hold it against her. She did fall out of the saddle. And it's not everyday you find out your fiancé's cousin just became a Dragon Rider._

_True...but it used to be..._

_And it will be again._

_I sure do hope so, little one._

_So do I. _Eragon gave a moan and stretched his arms. _The Ra'zac don't know how to treat a Rider. I swear since I first found you I've needed to work twice as hard to keep from getting cramped. Even sleeping hurts sometimes. And I don't know how long we were there, but I do feel like it was longer then a couple days._

_Yes. Many meals were brought to me while you were out. They were small and spaced by several hours._

_Saphira?_

_Yes, little one?_

_You don't think…_

_That your brother came to see us while he was out? _Eragon bit his lip and gave a weak nod. _No, I do not. Galbatorix would have us right now if it were so. At least you would have been so poorly drugged._

_I wonder why they didn't drug me more…_

_As do I. We may never know…_

_You didn't see anything odd?_

_No, it's what I didn't see that worries me…_

_What exactly happened anyway?_

_I'll show you…_

Flashback. Right after Eragon was knocked out…

Saphira gave an angry roar as she watched her rider fall to the ground. She turned to the Lethrblaka. It was truly an ugly creature. Its wings were an off peach color covered in patches of thin, mold covered hair. It was around the size of a dragon. Two beady eyes popped out of a puny snouted head. It had large, black ears, each one double the size of its head. The beast's nose was like a pig's, pressed in hard. The wings extended from its massive shoulders to each opposite cave wall.

It gave a low snarl at Saphira, who snarled right back. It screeched, stinging Saphira's ears and taking her by surprise. It took this opportunity to lunge at her, still screaming, pointy hollow teeth bared. They plunged into Saphira, sticking through her easy. She howled in shear agony.

From the side, Roran plunged at its side. His hammer lightly bruised the beast's side. It let go of Saphira, slamming her into the wall, and screamed as its short, spiky tail. A large spike impaled his side, ripping a cone hole into it. It threw his into the wall. His head cracked open a bit and began oozing bright red blood.

Saphira roared with out rage as she got to her feet and saw Roran's fall. _Fight like a dragon, you coward!_ It refocused its attention on Saphira, eyes glowing red. They circled each other, sizing up their opponent. Saphira gave a low growl which echoed around the cave. The Lethrblaka became distracted by it for less then a second, but it was all Saphira needed. She lunged forward its side and bit its neck hard. The Lethrblaka scream, flailing its claws in the air at Saphira. One clipped her eye and she roared, by so doing, freeing it from her grip. The creature tried to get away, but Saphira blocked the exit.

Seeing not other options, it dashed to Eragon's side. With fire in its demon eyes, it pushed its claw toward his still form. One nail pushed through his side on his lower leg. _Come any closer and the boy dies._ It declared in her head.

_You wouldn't…_

_Oh, I would. And I could. I'd just tell them you, being the stupid lizard you are, stepped on him accidentally during the fight…it's worked before…_

Saphira whimpered. She'd been beaten…

End flashback.

"Eragon, are you okay? You've been staring blankly for a while now." Katrina said.

"Sorry."

"Ya, you'll have to get used to that. He gets like that when he's talking to Saphira." Roran replied.

"Now I guess we should fill you in huh? Well...if you haven't already figured it, I am a Rider. It all stared one day when I was hunting..." And he told his story uninterrupted except the occasional detail added in by Saphira. He told everything, of the hatching, of the Ra'zac's pillage, of Brom and magic, of captures and death, of Murtagh and Arya, of Durza's defeat and his scar, his attacks, and his healing. He finished with Murtagh's revelation. "You must never tell anyone anything I said. Especially anything about Murtagh's whereabouts or of him being my brother. I tell you because Roran trusts you and because you are to be my family. If the wrong ears hear this, all could be lost. I want you to vow you will never willingly expose any of this. Roran did. And I want the vow to be in the ancient language."

He taught her the words and what they meant and she took the oath.

"Now I should tell you my part." Roran said. And he told her everything. Her father's betrayal, defending the village, leaving, pirating, the posters in the empire and his shock that Eragon was on them, Jeod and how he helped them, the Boar's Eye, and finding Eragon a rider. He finished with his role in the battle and punching Eragon after he'd had such a hard time. "And I'm still sorry too. I mean, Eragon had already been through so much. He had already been punished. I mean finding out your father is an evil son of a shade is enough, don't you think?"

Katrina sat there for a moment, soaking up all she's just learned. Finally she spoke, "That's a lot to load on a girl's plate for one day don't you think?" She yawned. "I'm tired. It's late. We should camp." She was right. The sun was going down and they didn't have a camp, fire, or even food yet.

Saphira landed, let them off and then went hunting while the others started a fire. Not long after they had enough fire wood for the night, Saphira returned with four rabbits and a boar for herself.

"Want some?" Katrina asked as she boiled a bowl of water. She dumped in the rabbits that Roran skinned and gutted for her. Then she pulled out a few spices from the woods and potatoes fresh from the ground.

"I don't exactly eat meat anymore. It's hard to explain." He pulled out a crisp piece of bread soaked in berry juices. Then he realized how hungry he was. It had been a long time since he had eaten, since he was captured.

Everyone realized the same thing as they sat down to eat and there was no talking or thinking until every crumb was gone.

When they were laying out their mats, Katrina was surprised when Eragon laid his as close to Saphira as he could. The fire was far from her as she was from the woods, around five or six feet.

"Why are you sleeping so far from the fire?" She said, but her meaning was not missed by Saphira, who gave a hurt growl.

"I rarely sleep away from Saphira these days. She is as much a part of me as my arm or leg. And when you say mean things about her or relating to her, it doesn't just hurt her." He didn't come out and say it hurts me too, but Katrina was not stupid enough to not catch the meaning. But how could she trust such a big, powerful creature. She may not be able to harm Eragon, but she could seriously hurt Katrina.

Eragon shut his eyes fast and heard Roran and Katrina talking in muffled voices,

"...it worries me. He spends too much time with _her_."

"Wait till we get to Surda. Then he'll be way too busy to even let us see him. Last time, it took me four weeks to get him to help me rescue you. They run him around like an animal. Fix this, sign that, go here, come back from there, it never seems to end."

"I think he needs a vacation. He looks so tired and worn. And since when was he an elf! And..." Eragon drifted off to sleep, hearing no more, with a silent tear rolling down his cheek.


	9. A simple idea

A giant mass of whirling brown fur followed by small traces of vibrant flaxen careened into view. Soft sand splashed with each frantic movement. After it chased a young man with a worried face. The small, indoor arena was filled with soft thuds of horse feet and loud yelling from a worried father.

"Aiedail, keep your heels down. And use your reins to guide him, not whip him." He shouted as Aiedail came into view, cantering around on her horse.

It had been a week and a half since Murtagh had first met her and she looked around five or six. He'd been teaching her to ride her stallion she'd christened Bronco. She wasn't that bad of a rider, especially given the fact that her real age was maybe two and a half weeks. But the horse had some spirit. The only one that may be able sometimes to get away from riding him without a scratch was Aiedail. And even then, there were no guarantees.

Bronco gave a wild cry and he started rapidly bucking. Aiedail tried to sooth him, but he didn't calm. His nostrils flared and he took shallow, labored breaths. The soft sand of the riding area was quickly in mounds and pits. The horse's back-left hoof hit the hard, black granite floor and he bucked higher, nickering with pain; his hoof splitting from impact. He reared and Aiedail fell off. But the horse lost balance and fell backwards after her with a sickening thud.

Murtagh ran to his daughter. He put his hand on her cold face. Her eyes were closed and her breaths labor. Her little heart still beat; but only just. It was little a faint, racing drum; threatening to mutely pound right out of her chest.

"Oh, gods! Please be alright." Murtagh said in a frantic voice as he tried to slap her awake.

Just then, Thorn strolled in. He was giving a low laugh. The fallen horse gave a wild cry and tried to get up, but to no avail. It was clear the horse had panicked when it smelled Thorn's coming.

"Aiedail! Aiedail! Can you hear me?" He yelled.

Her beautiful, deep as the ocean, green eyes moved there heavy lids away from them. A smile formed at her rosy lips and a soft, choked laugh escaped them. She wiped some dirt from her eyes and slowly got up.

"Thank the gods!" He said, relieved. He then took her in his arms, nearly squeezing the life from her himself. He'd never felt so strongly about anyone or anything. _What's wrong with me? _He thought as Aiedail tried to push away.

"Dad! Your choking me." She said in a cracked voice. Murtagh released his iron grip from her; almost not finding the strength to release the elf.

"Sorry honey. I was just so worried."

"You don't need to be. I can take care of myself."

"Not yet you can't." It was true and she knew it. So she gave up and left Murtagh in the court yard with his own thoughts to go take care of Bronco.

He thought of how lucky he was she wasn't hurt. The horse could have easily landed on her or stepped on her or even killed her. He knew it wasn't the first time she'd had a brush with death.

Every time someone saw her ears, she gained another enemy. Murtagh had to chase real monsters out from under her bed and from in her closet. So far someone had put a poisonous snake under her covers, stuck a knife through her bed so she would be impaled when she'd lie down, hid in her closet to poison her as she slept, snuck poison into her food, started her room on fire, and covered her covers with Seithr oil stolen from the Ra'zac. Life was so dangerous for the little elf. Murtagh always had a servant test something for her first. It was a real hassle.

And not only did she have to worry about people trying to maim or kill her; some had wanted to marry her. Three great lords had inquired to Murtagh about marring her; each one thinking she'd be an exotic addition to their harem. Some had given princely gifts to prove they were worth it. Others had only given threats, saying the elf would surly die without their hand. Most of the time, when they took the time to talk to her, she show off her attitude and sent them storming out of the room; another ally poorer and another enemy richer.

It wasn't just her being an elf that brought them either. She was less then a month old, but she already had the mark of fairness and beauty. Her hair was a silken brown curtain, hiding her mind like a curtain hides the deep, rich secrets of a dark, closed room. Her cheeks were high-bone and rosy as well, a rose. Her brow was dark and fine, highlighting her exquisite eyes; which were like spring, full and vivid and embodying more love and life then twas natural. The lashes on her lid were long and soft as a feather. Her refined form held the presence of a goddess, spreading all good things in her world. Add her Elven ears and amazing voice and she really is a powerful beauty.

But one that was in danger of losing her life. One that had more enemies then friends. As much as it pained him to say it, Aiedail couldn't stay at the palace any more. At least, the way she was now.

Murtagh thought over all his options to save her.

One was to let her die or kill her. It was very hard on them to have to protect her all the time. It was impossible to leave her alone. But he couldn't do that. He loved too much.

Another was to offer her hand to a wealthy lord or even Galbatorix himself. They may be able to protect her. But everyone who'd offered treated the rest of their harem badly. And he would not see her become some rich guy's sex slave.

Yet another choice was to see if she was to be a Rider. No one would kill a Rider. No one would dare. Galbatorix had thought she was going to be the next Rider. But this was a trick. If she became a Rider, Galbatorix would find her true name and make her take unbreakable vows. He did not want his life for his adopted daughter. No, that wouldn't do.

He could send her away, have her join the Varden. No one was ever cruel to elves there. And maybe she could find her real family. But what if he had to fight her someday? What if she became powerful and Galbatorix charged him with killing her? And he would do that too. He could never do that. He'd sooner kill himself or Thorn. She was truly more like the morning star then the real star itself to him. She brightened his life.

Suddenly, a powerful idea stepped forward. A perfect idea. He would have Galbatorix make oaths to never hurt her. If he did, Murtagh was to be freed and never used against his will again. That way, he could send her away and never see her hurt. Another, devilish idea came to his mind. If Galbatorix found out, he'd be dead. But the rewards were worth it. He would have to wait till she was much older but it would work. No doubt in his mind remained. Perfect! It was simply perfect…

"Daddy, I'm hungry. Can we eat soon?" He hadn't even noticed Aiedail was back. She had washed her face and put her hair up. She had also changed into a beautiful sea foam green dress.

"Yes, sweetheart," he answered, then added playfully, "I bet I can get there first."

"Right…."

Thorn rolled his eyes at him. He never took pleasure in Murtagh playing games with _it_. It. That is the only appropriate title he believed the elf disserved. Thorn had no reason to treat her otherwise. Elves treated him badly because of his parent. They didn't treat Eragon badly. And he had the same dad. The same blood. So what does Murtagh do, when he has a chance to rid the world of one less elf? He adopts it and gives it his title. _His _name. Disgusting. Yep. "It" was the only appropriate title. That was the only title she deserved in his eyes. Plus they could never go anywhere anymore without Murtagh thinking about, talking about, or playing with _it _anymore.He was really jealous of it. It had completely stolen his Rider from him.

_Murtagh, remember you promised we'd go to Silver Lake and then go look for Eragon this week._

_I know, Thorn. Don't worry. I'm a man of my word. I'll just have Shari look _after _Aiedail this weekend. _He bit his lip. He had no guarantees that she'd be okay when he left. And frankly he was all too worried. There were too many risks involved. He'd have to tell her though…

"You dare challenge me?" He said finally in a play tone, "Okay then. On your mark…Get set….Go!"

The little elf bolted off, her dad chasing her. Past black corridors they ran. They passed a group of the ladies of Galbatorix's court; who shuttered when they saw the gedwey ignasia on Murtagh and Aiedail's ears. Murtagh sighed.

_Another enemy for Aiedail_.

They raced on; despite the glaring ladies. Pavement flew past them. Aiedail stumbled a bit; then, regaining her balance, she pushed on. Murtagh did the same, though he really didn't lose his balance. He could easily out run her. But he still let Aiedail keep the lead, though only just.

When they were almost there, Aiedail took a short cut with Murtagh hot on her tail. The floor had been freshly waxed. She felt her legs shake beneath her with every stride. Suddenly, she took a misstep, landing on her heel foremost. It slid from beneath her. She fell to the ground on her chest with a loud thud, but simply started laugh.

Murtagh started to loose his balance. His fear of falling had Thorn there fast, but a second too late. Aiedail and Murtagh lay in a twisted pile on the floor, both laughing till tears rolled down their cheeks.

Thorn just gave a disgusted look and rolled his eyes, but on the inside he was laughing too. He didn't let Murtagh know though.

_No. I can't laugh at those clowns._ He thought defiantly. The scene was so funny, but he resisted.

But a toothy smile still showed on his lips as he approached the two.


	10. Family reunion

From a dense forest, squirrels chattered. One with a partially cut off tail scampered about, looking for acorns for winter reserves. His golden fur shone in the low forest light. A flea started to bite him and he paused to try and get it out of his fur. It was a particularly stubborn one. He had it in his tough jaws, but it wouldn't let his skin go. Frustrated, he paused for a moment, hoping to trick the flea into thinking it was over. Then he began to viciously attack it. It still wouldn't budge!

Beside him, maybe three feet away, a magnificent dark stag burst out of the brush His horns were long, beautiful, twisted masses of branches and his coat was a gleaming copper. Taught muscles rippled beneath his skin as he came to a sudden stop; listening for something, panting a little. There came a frustrated roar and a series of heavy thuds on the air. What the squirrel saw next made the stag look, in comparison, like a dog's chew toy.

Between the trees, a bright flash of sapphire blue came out and with lightning speed, ensnared the stag. Deep red, life's blood trickled on to the ground from behind a set of massive fangs. The fangs…the fangs of a dragon.

A dragon!

No one had seen a dragon in forever! And now he had! If there were any left in the wild, they were the forest's best kept secrets; like finding all the treasure in the world in a pig's trough.

With a beat of its thin, massive wings, the dragon left the squirrel's sight. The other creatures that saw it saw after only as flash of blue as it sped to a camp of humans. There, a copper haired girl with eyes a crystalline blue sat on the lap of a man with a curly mat of brown hair and brown eyes that matched. Rolling up mats in the far corner sat another man with curls of light brown and eyes of warm chocolaty brown.

"Nice catch, Saphira." Commented Eragon.

_Thank you, little one. _Saphira spoke with a voice like the roar of waves in the sea.

"Thanks, Saphira. You've kept us well fed." Said Roran.

"She says your welcome, Roran." Said Eragon.

Only the girl, Katrina, didn't thank her. Instead, she took the stag and began to strip the meat of it. She seemed skilled with meat.

_Don't worry. I'm sure she's glad for the meat._

_Glad for the meat? Yes. But glad to see me again? I think not._ Her words came out hurt as she began to beat her massive wings. One flap, two flaps, three and she disappeared from their view above the tree line.

Eragon bit his lip. She was right. Katrina had never been too fond of her. She didn't realize that Saphira had feelings and that she was doing one hell of a good job at hurting them. Small things like this were no so bad, but it wasn't just this. That was the problem.

_Saphira?_ He said to his dragon in a sympathetic voice.

_Yes little one._ She answered dismally.

_I'll talk to her tonight okay? I'll convince her to lie off._

…_Thank you._

Later that night, when they were all fed, Eragon motioned to Katrina to follow him. She had on a puzzled look for about five seconds, then followed. Through thick, dense trees they traversed. Eragon cleared the way with magic, but he missed some branches and soon they both had scrapes and scratches.

Finally they came to a clearing. Eragon sat down, crossing his legs in the center of the clearing. Katrina, wordlessly, did the same. Eragon closed his eyes and let the animals in. He felt the bird's mindless chatter, the squirrels and the chipmunk's endless war, the earthworm's lazy motions, and the rabbit's endless work. From a distance, he felt Roran and Saphira, pacing, wondering what they were doing. He gave a wry smile, and, for a long time, remained quiet. He found some ants and began following their secrets. Their battles, their struggles. And then, finally, he spoke.

"I come to places like this to sit and meditate and see what there is to see."

"Eragon, this field is empty and-"

"Empty? No, never empty. Just because you cannot see anything with your eyes, does not mean nothing's there. You've never seen a dwarf, yet you know by my stories they exist. I can feel thousands of creatures, all around us."

Katrina gulped. "You can? Where? What do they look like?" She was clearly scared.

"Everywhere. Some have feathers; others have smooth, hard shells. Some have fur; others have leathery wings. One is apart from all others. She is the largest, most amazing one by far. But she is all alone. There are very few of her. Most she's never seen. All creatures run from her. Few stay by her to learn her secrets. But she flies all alone in the sky; not to be seen. Not to be heard. Creature shouldn't be so mean to her, don't you agree?"

"She wouldn't happen to have blue scales, six inch fangs, and a scary roar, would she?"

"…She might…"

"And she wouldn't just so happen to be around you twenty-six-seven, would she?"

"…Possibly…"

"Forget it, Eragon. I just don't trust huge talking scaly lizards." She answered then added, "I guess you've told me how your last few months have been. I, now, believe it is my turn. Maybe then you may understand."

Flashback. A month after Katrina's capture. Two and a half days till the battle of the Burning Plains

"Get up, worm bag." Said a moldy voice. Katrina simply shut her eyes tighter. She would not entertain these…these…these creatures. Yes that is what they were. She thought of Roran, her only true love. A silent tear crept from beneath her lids down her face to the moldy cot. "I ssssaid 'Get up!'" creature hissed as he kicked sharply on her side.

She gave a slight yelp and turned to face the shadowy beasts. She glared into their eyes; sure they were glaring right back. "We have a mosssst important guesssst." Hissed the other one. Her heart jumped. Could it be? Could it possibly be her Roran…? "You musssst mind your mannerssss. If you don't, our massster would be mossst angry with usssss. And we would have to punisssh you. That would be mosssst…unpleassssant…."

She got up. Part of her wanted to smile as she anticipated Roran coming through the doors to her prison cell. The other part wanted to gag with disgust over that he had been caught. She heard the flap of Lethrblaka wings.

The doors opened and light poured in. A figure stood in the doorway. He looked almost god-like. She looked him over. He wasn't Roran…but there was something familiar in his eyes. Like she knew him from somewhere or knew one of his family members at least.

His brown eyes looked over her. She suddenly felt very embarrassed as she noticed how worn her clothes were. She hadn't cared with the Ra'zac-they weren't human after all. And she didn't care with all the slaves-they wore no better attire then she did. But this man was wearing rich-looking wine-red armor and had expensive looking…everything on. His hand-and-a-half sword glittered in the lantern's light.

"Leave." He said. Well more like commanded.

"Thissss issss our prissssoner, not yourssss and-"

"Leave!" he barked. To Katrina's surprise, they got up, bowed, and swiftly left the room. The man looked tenderly at Katrina. "What's your name?" Even though he seemed nice enough, something about him profoundly frightened her.

"Katrina of Carvahall." She was surprised at how bold and daring she sounded. When she said "Carvahall," something lit up in the man's eyes. Like he knew someone there or something. He smiled with a spark running through his eyes. "What's your name?" He ignored her question.

"Well, Katrina, do you know why you're here?" She shook her head. "Why, you're here to help us get together a family reunion of sorts."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah…that I shall not say. A man needs to keep some secrets." He gave her some fresh looking bread from his pocket. "Now, tell me all you know of Roran. Particularly his relatives."

"Why?" she said as she nibbled the bread.

"No other reason then that I can make it worse for you here if I don't hear what I want. I can also make it better."

She hesitated. Part of her thought this would be betrayal. But something about him made her feel she could trust him. "Well, both of Roran's parents have passed on. We suspect his cousin, Eragon, has too…" The man began to snicker when he heard this. "What's so funny?"

"Let's just say Eragon is alive…"

"How do you know?"

"Trust me, I do." He said. Then he added, "continue."

Katrina shrugged. "I don't really know anything about Eragon's dad. But I knew his mom…" He listened intensely at this. "One month, she came by. She and my mother were best friends…before she died…" Katrina paused so not to appear grief stricken. But instead, a tear fell from her eye. She saw the man staring at her and sucked it up.

"It's okay. You can cry. My mom died too." He sighed. "And I miss her every day. Not my dad, though. I could have lived a full life without him." Katrina wanted to know more about these harsh words and stayed quiet incase he had more to say. When he was silent, she continued.

"It was just a short visit. But I'll never forget what she told me, 'When you marry, marry someone good. If you don't, you and your children will pay…'" The man wiped away a tear. Katrina gave him a quizzical look, but he said nothing. "And then she left, only to return a few years later with a pregnant belly. She gave birth to Eragon at my house. He was cute as a baby." The man gave a low snicker. She had learned to just ignore him by now… "And then she begged and pleaded for Roran's parents to take him. Something to do with a prophecy… I don't really know. And then, Selena vanished. Never to be seen again. Not even to visit Eragon. When I first met him, I watched nights where he'd cry himself to sleep because he thought his parents didn't want him. That's all I'm going to say for now…" The man looked stunned. Was it something she said?

"I-I have to go now. I'll tell them to increase your rations."

"Thank you…" she said. He turned for the exit. "Wait!" she yelled, chasing after him. He was out in the hall when she caught up to him. Grabbing his arm, she said, "You never answered my question. What is your name?"

He hesitated a moment, then said, "Murtagh."

Katrina opened her mouth to say something, but as she did, in a giant red flash, a dragon charged into the cave. It gave a low growl when it saw her, puffing out a thick plume of smoke. _Wrenched slave girl!_ A voice cried in her head as the monsters tail crashed into her. The blow smashed her across the chest, sending her clear across the cave. _Never touch my Rider again, slut. _It threatened before slamming its tail into her again, knocking her out cold against the stone wall.

_Thorn, you just knocked out my soon-to-be sister-in-law. Thanks._

Ignoring the comment, Thorn asked Murtagh, _Did you find out what you wanted to know about your family?_

_Yes and no._ Murtagh answered solemnly. He gave a deep sigh and eyed his dragon angrily.

_Which is it? _The dragon asked, confused.

_A little of both… _

End flashback.

"And that's why I hate dragons…" she said

"Can you at least lay off a bit? Please. She's not like Thorn. Not at all. If not for her sake, for me? I am hurt just as badly when you say such things…" his voice trailed off. He could feel something. Something large, cold and cruel. It came with another presence. A bit smaller. Suddenly he recognized them. He gasped.

"What?" Katrina asked. Eragon hushed her, clamping his hand around her mouth.

"Be quiet." He whispered as he unclamped her mouth. She paused for a moment, confused.

Then she whispered, "What's going on?'

"Murtagh." Eragon said breathlessly.


	11. Two discoveries: one good, one bad

Eragon could finally see the red gleam of the scales about seven minutes after he first knew Murtagh was coming. The loud thud of his wings on the air and a screaming, loud roar sent shivers down his spine. He surveyed the beast before him. He had grown since the Burning Plains. From wing tip to wing tip, he completely covered the moon and much more. His muscles budged as he flew. The white spikes that, on him and every dragon, ran from between his ears to the tip of his tail, gleamed in the light of the silvery moon.

Between his shoulders, Murtagh sat, tense and still. He was barely recognizable in the dark light, but there was no mistaking it was he. His dark form seemed more evil then ever before; more foreboding.

Katrina seemed to be in shock. Eragon didn't think she believed he was his brother or that he truly was a Rider of that evil red monster. Now that there was a massive blood-colored dragon and his relentless rider flying over head, however, she had no choice but to believe him.

Careful not to give himself away, he slowly pushed Katrina into a thick, sharp bush. Despite its roughness, she went willingly into it. At the same time, he slowly pulled away from Murtagh's out stretched mind. He wasn't sure Murtagh would notice, but just in case, he reached for his magic and pulled his bow out. He quickly, quietly strung it and prepared an arrow. He nervously ran his fingers down the shaft.

Katrina gave a nervous glance at the arrow, Eragon, and the dragon. she was shocked how willing Eragon seemed; how relaxed and at ease his stance was even with his evil brother nearby. It had finally sunk in how much he'd changed. It was hard to believe the boy she could once have knock over with one finger was now this steady-stance warrior, holding meaning and power behind every motion.

However, despite what Katrina thought, Eragon was nervous and much tenser then he appeared. He couldn't kill his brother. Not only did he not want to, but he doubted he had any small chance of success without Saphira.

At camp, Saphira began to pace again. Something was wrong…

"What's going on?" Roran asked, not aware of the danger he was in.

_Something is not right. The last time I felt Eragon so nervous was at the Burning Plains…I fear for him. I also feel two distant presences. Much larger then anything found around here…I need to know._

_What's going on? _Commented Saphira. She had felt his worry and called out to him.

_Murtagh. _He need not explain more. She already knew what had happened. _You need to hide. He hasn't seen us…yet. And I don't think he will. But there's no harm in being prepared…_

Then he broke contact with him. He felt her ready to rush to his rescue. Then he reached out to Roran. _Roran, follow Saphira. Something's happened. You need to hide._

_Ra'zac?_

_Worse. _He answered as he watched Thorn land near a lake that was all to close to Katrina and his hiding place. The surface, once calm and placid, rippled as the dragon touched down.

Murtagh slid his left leg over his dragon. Then he pushed down towards the ground. He stuck his arm back onto the saddle and pulled off something small and cylinder shaped. It had tough tan ropes tied around its width and appeared to swirl around and around in a spiral. Eragon realized with dismay it was a sleeping bag. They were going to be in for a long night…

Behind him, something made a loud rustle. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned to see what had made the noise. Katrina was in an awkward position. Her legs were doing the splits and her arms held her up. she caught his gaze and gave a low, nervous laugh and toothy smile. Then she finished shifting, leaning against the tree behind the bush for support. Thorn saw it and clearly heard it too, as he started to go towards them right for their hiding place!

They were dead now for sure. They couldn't move or Murtagh might see him and use his magic. Then where'd they be. But Thorn was getting too close for comfort. Eragon knew with every stride and ripple of muscle, Thorn had another chance to see them; then he'd tell Murtagh and... They were goners.

"Thorn, would you stop messing around and help me with the fire already?" Murtagh said irritably.

They could tell Thorn said something and they could probably guess what because Murtagh spoke again, as if answering to something.

"You don't need to scare it away. And it's probably just a squirrel or something anyway."

Thorn gave one last glance at their hiding place, and then went back to help Murtagh. With one puff of flame, the job was done. Then Murtagh pulled out something that was probably food, but they couldn't see clearly. He tossed some to Thorn, who quickly gobbled it up. Then, after eating, Murtagh spoke.

"Thorn, I've been thinking a lot. And I figured out what to do."

Thorn shifted to his side and blew a little smoke.

"Think, Thorn. Who else is almost contently nearby."

They could only imagine what Thorn was saying as he blew a small, orange tongue of flame.

"Look, I know you don't like her. And we can't keep protecting her like this. We simply can't. I don't want to see anything bad happen to her; that's all. So I made Galbatorix promise…"His voice went hushed, so that even Eragon's elf ears couldn't hear it. All they heard were broken up words like, "Varden…Aiedail…only way…egg" Eragon froze.

_If only I knew what he said! It seemed important._ Eragon thought.

Several moments paced before they could hear again.

"So, Thorn…I know were supposed to be looking for Eragon this week, but I doubt we're going to find them. It's about as likely as them being in that bush over there." He pointed right at there hiding place, "So I thought we might just vacation instead. Where do you want to go? We've got a whole week."

_Murtagh's going to be gone from the palace for a whole week? Maybe…just maybe…_

"Yes I'm sure. I made sure. This week, Galbatorix is going to be gone. He'll be way to busy to even think of scurrying us."

_Saphira?_

_Yes little one?_

_I got a plan. By the end of the week, if all goes well, you'll have another dragon. But I'll explain more later. Now's not a good time…_

"Okay, sounds good. This is going to be fun. And I'll need it. If she doesn't leave…"

Thorn nuzzled him gently.

"It's just hard… that's all. You have no idea what it's like, Thorn."

The dragon shook his head. Murtagh frowned at him. Murtagh and Thorn laid down side by side. They sat for a long time, just watching as the sun set and the bright moon rose. The first stars became visible. Among them was the magenta light of Kisma, the evening star. Kisma is said to be a distant, dying star. After a long few moments, Murtagh shifted.

"I wonder what he's doing right now…"

Thorn turned to face his Rider.

"Yes Thorn. I mean Galbatorix." Murtagh said sarcastically. "No, I mean Eragon… I mean my brother."

Eragon froze. He couldn't smile a bit. _So he does think of me as much as I do of him…_he realized. How he wished to embrace him at that moment. Or yell out "I'm here. I always have been." But he could not risk it. He must put the Varden ahead; put his duties before himself.

_But what of the duties you have to yourself? To your heart…_A voice said in his head. Eragon had to stop himself from jumping. It was not like any voice he'd ever heard before.

_Saphira?_ He asked. The sound of silence greeted him. _Stop playing games, Saphira!_

_I am not her…_ Came a reply. Eragon felt the hair on his neck stand up as he heard these words.

_Then who are you?_ Eragon asked. A thought came to his mind. He tried to dismiss it. It was insane. But it buzzed through his head loudly. Was it even possible? Could it be? Should he even ask? _…Mother?_

He felt the connection break away. _Mother?_ He asked again. He was greeted with the loudest blast of silence… what ever it was was sincerely gone.

Time edged by. Thorn and Murtagh sat in silence-or so it seemed. Suddenly, Eragon heard Saphira's voice in a desperate plee, _Eragon! Tell me you're coming soon! Roran passed out and his head is bleeding!_ She screamed frantically.

_What! When did this start?!_

_He was complaining of being lightheaded. I didn't know why he bothered telling me. I couldn't do anything. Then a couple minutes ago, he laid down. Then he started trembling violently. I tried to calm him, but to no avail. When I touched him, he was so warm, I thought he'd burn me. Me! Then he went unconscious! I fear the Ra'zac did this to him…_

Eragon opened his mouth to tell Katrina, but then snapped it shut. There was no use worrying here till need be. But he did begin to fidget.

_Go to sleep already Murtagh! To save my cousin!_ He shuttered. _And I guess yours too._

He sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity but was really less then a minute. He smacked himself hard in the face. He'd been being so stupid! Why not just use magic?

"Osg tu maushe.'" He whispered. And then he moved his hand down twice, one for each person he wanted to sleep; feeling a bit tired himself. Thorn and Murtagh both yawned.

Murtagh trailed off. His and Thorn's eyes both closed. Eragon waited till he could hear a deep rasping sound. Like a dying animal. Then he realized it was coming from Thorn.

"We have to go…now…quickly. No time to explain." Eragon whispered. Swiftly

"What's going…"

"Now!" he said a bit louder. He heard the rustle of leaves being smashed. Eragon tensed up, petrified as he turned to see Murtagh turn on his side. Had he woken him? No…whew.

Katrina, without another word or question, followed Eragon away. Soon they saw the Blazing orange flames of their fire. Saphira's scales blazed with the flames. The blue mass of dragon laid in a curl around a limp figure. It was pale and a pool of wine red lay next to his head. Blood. It took Katrina a moment to realized what she saw…Roran She gaped to scream, but shut her mouth when she remembered the monster with red scales sleeping somewhere in the woods.

Katrina quickly ran to her fallen fiancé. She held him in her arms and cried out as she saw the nasty, oozing gash the Ra'zac had given him.

Eragon looked at him. He looked pale and deathly still. The blood oozing from his wound had lots of dirt in it. He would need to clean and dress the wound.

He went to a near by bubbling brook and filled a pan he had with water. Then he placed it on the fire to heat. He knew he couldn't be to long. Murtagh could be anywhere. He took a rag and wet it once the water had heated up a bit and gave it to Katrina. She cleaned the dirt out of it and washed off the dried blood, all the while crying. Then she realized something,

"You can use magic, right?"

"Good idea." He answered. He kneeled down next to Roran. "Move a little. I need some light." When she had move, he held his palm with the gedwey ignasia and said, "Waise heill." And like that, with Eragon's palm brightly shining, his head was healed.

"Why isn't he waking?" Katrina asked after a long second.

"I can't tell what's going on on the inside, so I can't heal that. We'll just have to wait and see if he gets better." The truth was, Eragon didn't know if he would get better. That blow was obviously hard…no he wouldn't think like that. Roran couldn't die…could he?

"What did you do to him!" Katrina suddenly demanded Saphira. Eragon had never seen her so angry. Her eyes, reflecting the nearby fire, burned a flashy red and orange. Her face was sheer red. Eragon felt Saphira's anger as she shifted in place; gouging the soils beneath her.

"Don't blame Saphira! She didn't do anything!" Eragon answered her with a surprised furry.

"Why are you always standing up for her? She is just a stupid animal!" Eragon could feel a torrent of flame burning within her.

"No, she's not! I thought so too when I first met her. But now I know how wrong I was. She's no more of an animal then you are!"

"How blind are you, Eragon? She's a dragon! She's not like you or me!"

"You're right! She's better!"

"Eragon, she's not. She maybe able to talk, but she can't change how I feel about dragons! I told you what happened with Thorn! She's just like him!"

At these words, a loud thud started. In his furry, it took Eragon a moment to realize what was happening. Saphira was leaving. She rose, higher and higher till she was gone.

"Saphira! Come back!" Eragon yelled, following her figure in the night. Her scales twinkled with the light of the moon, illuminating her. He heard her hurt grumbling, drifting through the air. Soon, even with Eragon's elf speed, Eragon could not keep up with the dragon's speed in the air. She was gone from his view. He ran up a hill to see her shadowy form flying away.

"Katrina, what have you done?" he mumbled as Katrina stumbled after him. She had a frightened look in her eye as she watched Saphira flying away….


	12. More problems and an unknown past

Eragon and Katrina slowly began walking back down the hillside. Katrina had diamond tears falling from her crystal eyes. She wasn't really so much upset that Saphira was gone; but that her fiancé was dying and they were in the middle of no where's vile without a ride out.

As for Eragon, well he was beating himself up that he had let it get this far. Saphira had never had someone hate her so thoroughly. And he felt so stupid for not being able to convince Katrina how good Saphira was. He was constantly trying to contact Saphira.

He was so caught up with fighting her solid walls, he wasn't watching his step. He stumbled over a log, cursed, and then looked to see where their camp was. It wasn't far, but something was wrong. Nothing was out of place, but it was what Eragon didn't see that worried him…

"…Katrina, where's Roran?" he said as a lump grew in his throat.

"What do you mean? He was right here-wait, what?" she looked around. There were signs of where he'd been laying-and drag marks leading away from it. "Shade's blood! Where is he? Oh no! This is all my fault!" Katrina said in panic as she burst into a new cascade of tears.

Eragon paid no mind to her. He thought he knew what happened. But he hoped not. He focused hard on the drag marks. There was something about them- something familiar… something he saw often. He looked around. The trees were missing may branches. Way back when, this would not have been odd. But now, Saphira had learned to be able to enter a forest without disturbing a single leaf. As her adolescent form matured, she became able to maneuver with the ease and grace of an elf. This was not her work.

He bent over next to a track; carefully observing the area. The ground was littered with deep gouges only flying beasts and dragons made. The depressions were much shallower and had a greater diameter; as if they held a lighter creature. Not only that, but Saphira rarely landed. There was less chance of being caught if she only landed in a couple places. And this area was not one of them. Plus the marks were fresh.

"Let's move." Eragon said, coming to his decision about the tracks.

"What?" said Katrina as she wiped away a tear

"I said let's go. We need to get in a more sheltered spot."

"My fiancé, your cousin, is out there somewhere…dying…and all you can think about is yourself?"

Eragon sighed. "Listen Katrina. Do you really think he just got up and moved on his own? Take a good look at these," he said, gesturing to the tracks and drag marks. "Where else have you seen them? A dragon has been here. That or a Lethrblaka. Better hope it's the latter. Though it wouldn't surprise me if Galbatorix himself heard you, the way you were yelling. Why, Murtagh is less then a quarter of a league from here. You don't think he heard? And what's worse, you went and scared off Saphira. Or rather insulted her off. Congratulations, Murtagh may just catch us after all." Eragon poured out all his frustration and anguish in these words.

It was no surprise that Katrina wanted to cry at these words. Who wouldn't? She had just been slapped in the face by worlds; pulled out of her reality and into the real reality. _What have I done?_ She thought on it as Eragon silently lead her down the path, through a dense patch of forest.

It started to mist gentle drops of water. Eragon kept moving though. The rain was so chilling; it made Katrina shiver a bit. Eragon wasn't cold. He'd felt worse. All the while, he gave attempts to contact his dragon. She still wasn't answering. Each time Eragon tried, it was a bit weaker then the last. He was tired. It had been a long, terrible day. His cousin was dying or dead, Saphira was gone or possibly even captured, and Katrina was scarred for life because of his words to her.

Eragon froze. Katrina gave him a confused look. He looked around. Bushes covered his sides and he could feel bugs climbing on him. Ticks, ants, spiders, mosquitoes, everything climbed up his legs or came down from the trees. But the area was well sheltered by a thick pine. He went up to is and sat by its trunk; dropping his stuff onto the floor. Katrina took a moment, and then did the same on the far side of the tree.

And for a long time, thing were silent as the two pondered of their predicament. Eragon had give up with Saphira. Even if she did put her shield down, he knew that Murtagh would see her. After all, he did most likely have Roran.

One thing puzzled him though. And that was the absence of human tracks next to the gouges in the Earth. He shrugged it off and figured Murtagh just never got off. What else could he think? That some unknown beast had found his cousin at mid-night and managed to carry him away before Eragon could even detect it was even there?

Meanwhile, Katrina was wondering if she'd ever see Roran alive again. He was dying when she last saw him and could be dead now. And who knows what that monster will do to him? Saphira's bad, but Thorn was worse. And that was the truth.

She bit back a tear. Of course she'd see him again. Who was she kidding herself? Their bond was too strong for this to be the end, wasn't it? Couldn't their love out live empires, disasters, peril, and death? She thought it could. But could it really be that endless? Is that even possible? She guessed so, but she still had doubts…

"Katrina, Roran is alive. We'll see him again…"

"How could you know? How can you even be sure?"

Eragon put his hand on his chest and breathed in deeply. "Katrina, when me and Saphira left, my first thought was 'what about Roran?' I was only thinking then about the Ra'zac getting him.

"But then, as time went on, I found myself worrying more and more about him. If the whole empire was after me, I knew they'd want to use him as bait to get me. And well, I felt helpless.

"If I left him alone, he might get caught. Then they'd threaten to kill him if I didn't turn myself in. if I denied them or didn't show up, they'd kill him just to hurt me.

"If I met up with him, they'd torture anything I told him right out of him and then use him as bait. Even the Varden might do so. And I felt like I had no power; despite the fact that people were telling me I had more power then any other person alive.

"So I just let fate take the wheel. That and Roran's cunning. And he turned into a hero a leader. All cause I believed he'd make it. Roran… he's a fighter. And that's why I know he is still out there." Katrina still looked unconvinced.

Eragon sighed as he pulled out his a brown clay bowl and a small flask of water. He poured the water into the bowl.

Water reflected the moon and thicket vibrantly. Katrina stared at the liquid mirror; a girl stared right back at her. She was…different. There was something in her eyes. A sort of sorrow. As quick as she had appeared she was gone. Katrina gasped. Eragon smiled, "This water is special. It can show anyone parts of the future. You don't understand them till you are there though…"

"I…I saw a girl. She was beautiful. But sad. I felt like I knew her…like I felt when I first saw Murtagh only stronger. She isn't…my daughter...is she?"

"As I said, this water misleads you. I know not of this girl you speak of. We will just have to wait and see. Maybe she is, maybe she isn't." Eragon stopped talking. It became clear he would not say any more.

Katrina watched as Eragon seemed very focused. His palm suddenly began to glow vibrantly; illuminating the small brush. He said two, strange, powerful-seeming word, "Draumr kopa!"

As he watched, the water darkened. It seemed blacker then the night sky. Then, slowly, a figure appeared. It was deathly pale, but his chest still rose and fell; his heart still beat strongly. He was clearly flying, but the mount was invisible. A gust rocked his hidden stead and he shifted a bit; his face towards them.

"Roran!" Katrina gasped.

"Murtagh must have his amulet on…" Eragon remarked at the invisible stead. He figured Murtagh was right there. He reached out to touch the image. It faded as he did.

"You, you miss him, don't you?" Katrina said softly.

"Roran? Of course. He's all I have left..."

"No silly. You still have one more. Don't think I'm blind. You didn't try to touch Roran…"

"Katrina, I have duties to the Varden. To Alagaesia. To you. To Roran. To Saphira…and Arya." He heard a disapproving click in his head. _Saphira? _He reached out. No one was there…

"Listen, your mom loved you. But she loved another just as much…your brother. Yes, he is your brother. And you'll have to face that someday. He's not bad…" Katrina felt Eragon shying away. So she changed topics. "I never did tell you about our mothers' great adventure together, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"You want to here it?"

"Well, I should be looking for Saphira…but we're not going anywhere…" he glanced outside. It wasn't misting anymore; oh no. It was pouring rain. Lightning rippled across the sky. Eragon frowned. _Saphira, be safe…_ He realized how worried he was. And he just couldn't stop thinking of her. He needed to get her off his mind… "Sure…Why not?" he smiled at her. He suddenly realized as he shifted positions that Katrina was trying to get her mind off Roran.

"Let's see….it may take a while. And I may not tell it all tonight. You'd be surprised at all your mother did…" Katrina gave him a gentle smile. "It was around fifteen years before you were born…"

Flashback

"Hurry up, Meg!" Yelled the spicy, strong voice of a young lady. The speaker was hidden by thick, full trees. Shadows covered her face and dress; allowing little more the flashes of peach and fiery red to be seen. She was nearly fifty feet up in the tree!

"Selena? I'm not sure this is the best idea…" Said the gentler voice of a young girl. She was barely ten feet up. Sunlight flickered off her golden hair; rivaling the sun which fed its gleam. Her features were soft and tender. She was none too skinny, but not super fat either. Her hair was pulled up by a loose, bronze ribbon.

"Come on, Meg! Don't be such a chicken!" a thin figure flashed in and out of the sunlight.

Meg reached up to grab the next limb. But her long arms were not long enough to reach the fat, rough branch. She stood up on her tip toes to reach for it. She grasped it and tried to pull herself up. Suddenly her bare feet lost their grip; dotted with scratches as she did. She dangled by the limb; feet flailing, trying to catch the branch below. She sweated with effort as she pushed to hoist her body up.

Her grip began failing her and she cried out in desperation, "Selena… Help…. I'm slipping." the shadows above danced and a low crackling began. "Selena?" She said as she looked up to see the branch was beginning to snap. "Sel-eee-na?" she said nervously as the snaps got louder. Suddenly the branch drooped from her weight. "Selena!" she yelled in panic.

Suddenly she felt a hard tugged from beneath her. She panicked and began kicking and flailing her legs harder and faster. Her left leg smashed against the trunk and the extra push suddenly elevated her to the top of the branch.

"Thanks, Meg." Said a low voice from the branch bellow. She looked beneath her to see a young boy. She giggled a bit. There was a small, coin shape and sized bald spot already on his head. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were blue. He was kind of short. She smiled.

"Well, next time you want to save my life Sloan, you'd better tell me you're going to. Or you may just get a black eye." She giggled as she pointed to a dark circle around his eye that was surprisingly getting darker and more swollen by the second. He flushed and covered his injured eye with embarrassment. But as he did, he pushed too hard on it and gave a low yelp as a shot of pain ran through his body. This made Meg laugh louder.

"Well, can you help me up?" he said, obviously finally over the embarrassment as he extended an arm up to Meg. She smiled as she bent over to help up her would-be hero. They both couldn't help but blush a little as her hand fell on his. The touch felt warm and soothing.

She pulled him up without a problem. It was what happened when they were both standing up that the problems started. See, they had forgotten that the branch was nearly broken and more wait equaled less hold. The branch, needless to say, easily snapped.

Meg screamed and so, shockingly, did Sloan. The two fell luckily without hitting much more then twigs; Sloan fell a bit faster then Meg. He hit the ground hard, taking in a big mound of leaves. Meg fell right out top of him. Her lips, to their shock and joy, slammed into his. She tried to pull away for a second, but he held onto her. She melted into his sweet embrace.

But it was not long enough. A few seconds after their fall, they heard a soft thud and separated to see a young girl staring at them, giggling softly at them. She had fiery red hair flowing straight down her back. Her hair seemed to shine, even in the shadows. Her eyes were a bright, molten bronze that shone wherever she stood. They had a far off look in them, like they saw the future and not the present. Her thin lips looked like they mocked them as her smile was a tiny bit crooked; it hid ivory teeth just behind the rims of her lips. She had a wild look to her; like she enjoyed excitement.

"I was going to help, but you guys were being so cute together. I just had to spy. But I have to say it. Meg, get a room." She chortled. Meg looked like she wanted to die from embarrassment. Sloan's face was so red, it looked like any second now he'd blow up.

Meg slowly found her words, "Selena, you should really find a man. I heard Horst likes you…"

Selena shook her heard, "No, not that I don't like him, but I just know he's not for me. I'll know when I find the one who is. He's out there, somewhere…but till he shows, watching you two is good enough for me."

"Great…" Sloan mumbled so low, only Meg could here it. She giggled a bit as he made a face to her.

"Now if you don't excuse me, I've got a tree to climb." And with that, she lunged up to the first branch. Within seconds, she had scaled double what Meg had period in less then a fifth of the time Meg had taken.

"I don't know how she does it…" Meg remarked as her best friend left view.

"What are you guys doing out here anyway? The Spine's not safe for anyone; especially for one as fair as you." Meg blushed at the complement.

"Well, Selena heard something about a battle between dragons here recently. They say the wood still burns- and they also say there is still a dragon near here, wounded or maybe dead. And you know Selena, so the rest is history…"

Meanwhile, Selena was almost to the top. If it hadn't been for Meg's little mishap earlier, she would have been up there and back down again long ago. Sky smiled as her figure broke the tree-line. She spread her arms out, feeling the wind on her face. She closed her eyes to let it all in.

It was the feeling.

The feeling of freedom.

Like she was a free bird, flying where the winds took her. Not some caged bird stuck in no where's vile. The forest was the bars which held her. She could only watch as other birds were always leaving. But not her. Oh no. She was a girl. And girls were too weak to leave till…well forever.

But no longer. This was her seventeenth year and it was now when she was dubbed old enough to be freed from her cage. It would have been earlier if a few incidents didn't happen were she was the guilty one. In a week, she'd turn her back on Carvahall and never look back again.

But for now, this was the biggest taste of freedom this bird would get to freedom from her cage. And boy did it ever taste good.

She opened her bronze eyes to survey one of the more spectacular sights this side of Alagaesia. A thick, mixed forest flowed in the deep indent known as the Palancar Valley. In the center sat the colony of lights known as Carvahall. The sun had just dipped bellow Mount Skulblaka. Cutting down its face was Idga Falls; which spent the days misting the valley, creating soft rainbows, and feeding the Anora River.

Past the great mountain stood several others, each giant even for giants. She turned to see the peak of the mountain she was on, Mount Parr. It stood, proud and untamed against the darkening sky. She smelled the sweet pine from its forest.

Then she noticed something odd on the face of the mountain. Like a scar, a roughly crescent-shaped black mark sat about a league from where she sat up in the trees. It had touches of shifting red, like blood oozing from a cut. She knew it to be fire. The scar had a oddly redder part to it that wasn't fire; that and a midnight blue part not far from it.

Curious, she strained to discern the distorted shapes. But her eye could not see a single detail. All they knew was that something was there…

She quickly began her decent to the forest floor. In around ten minutes, she had reached the last branch. She looked down to see Meg and Sloan, kissing. She giggled. Sloan backed off her too see Selena.

"Oh no…" he said softly as she touched down to the ground.

"Hey you two…." Selena said. She had startled Meg, who hadn't noticed she was there. "You guys were having too much fun while I was gone…" They both blushed and nodded. "Now, we have some exploring to do." She told them what she had seen; leaving out the part about the red and dark blue blurs. She was almost sure of what they were, but why were them if it was just _almost_ sure. Not sure. Plus they probably wouldn't go if she told them…

"So, something really did happen there?" Meg asked.

"So it appears…" Selena answered.

"Well, what are we waiting for? The forest to grow back?" Sloan asked as he got a head start. But he didn't keep it for long. Soon, an order was established. Selena, then Meg, and finally Sloan. So much for a head start…

They moved briskly and soon they came to the scene. Before them, a murder-filled scene stood the test of time. The land was blackened and mowed over for nearly a league west from where they stood and a quarter of a league thick. Small patches of fire burned off to the sides, dotting the rims of the scene.

But what held their attention most was in the center of the land. A massive, dark blue lump covered the area. It was long and snaky. Hard white spikes ran down part of it. Thin wings stretched out of the body. It clicked instantly in Selena's mind what it was. It was a dragon.

But something was wrong. Seriously wrong. She, much to the dismay of Sloan and Meg, moved toward it, turning to try and discern what lay next to it. It was a man. A dark man, with a midnight blue sword ripping through his chest to be more exact. His heart laid on the tip. Blood soiled the earth in which he lay. His clothes were red with it and his head was scalped. Blood trickled from everywhere, coming out of mid air if it had to.

Selena had to turn away from the man, tears swelling in her eyes. The only time she'd seen anywhere closed to that amount of blood was when Meg cut her leg open. And even then, that wasn't nearly as bad. This man was obviously dead. Flies buzzed around his wounds, laying maggots in them to continue their race.

"Who could do something like this?" she whispered as she turned to her friends, tears in her eyes.

"Like wha-" Meg started forward but then stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the man, shrieking a bit. Sloan had already scene and seemed calm…well that or stunned.

Selena seemed to be the only one with some sense. "We should burry him…"

"Are you insane? That thing 'll kill us before we get the chance." Meg said, pointing to the dragon.

"One Meg, it's a dragon. Two, I think it's dead." She said as she turned and casually moved to the fallen Rider's side. Meg started to protest, but was silenced by a look from Selena.

She was soon there. She decided to toss a rock at the dragon. Because though she was sure it was dead, doubts still burned in her mind. As did images of the beast ripping her to shreds. When it didn't move, she realized she was right. She checked the man's pulse, just to be sure. There was not heart beat so she motioned to Sloan and Meg to come join her.

After they buried the man's corpse, it was too dark to see a thing. So Sloan built a fire while the girls gathered food. None were hungry since the sight of the man's corpse and dark blood was still on their mind. Sloan and Meg went to bed fast. But Selena could not sleep.

Selena spent the next few hours trying to clean her hands. They never felt clean and she didn't know why. When the moon was high over head, she decided to give up and follow the other's example and go to sleep.

As she slept, she had strange dreams of dragons fighting. One was the man and the other varied from dream to dream. But they all ended the same; with the other dragon's rider killing the man and watching the dragon die.

She was in the middle of her tenth version. The dragon was black with red spikes and the rider was truly cruel. But in this version, she was the dragon.

She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her side. She kept her eyes shut and tried to go back to sleep. She was greeted with another sharp pain. She opened her eyes. When her eyes met the sight, she tried to scream, but a hand cupped her mouth and…

End Flashback.

"Wait…what?" Eragon asked.

"I told you. That's it for the night." Katrina said.

"But what happened?"

"That would spoil the ending. We must get some sleep. I can't keep telling till morning." She said, then added, "Besides, cliff hangers keep you interested."

"I'm interested in anything involving my mother. Boring or amazing. And this is cruel Please Katrina…"

"No, I'll tell no more for the night…" Katrina froze. A sharp sound came to her ear. The cracking of a near-by fire. Twigs snapped loud and hard under the weight of an unknown being…


	13. Saphira, alone

**Title taken from an episode of Avatar the last airbender. But in the stead of Zuko…Alone, it's Saphira…Alone. So what if Zuko's evil and Saphira's not. They are still two great characters.**

Forest. That was all the two big, beautiful blue eyes could see. Endless forest unfolding across the horizon. The sun had long since left the sky and the blue dragon was still flying. She knew she'd need to find a resting place for the night soon. But there were no magnificent caves hiding beneath curled peaks or soft, straw-filled man-made dragon roosts nearby. Not even a boulder hiding midst the forests. But her eyes still desperately searched for shelter as her wings ached for rest.

She could feel Eragon's desperation to contact her. She wouldn't…couldn't, let him in. it was like some other presence kept her from doing it.

Ahead, storm clouds began to worry her. She remembered that day so long ago when she got trapped in a dreadfully windy storm. It had come so fast. How could she have known… Never before had she felt such great worry, fear, or pain. She could not control herself. The wind had rattled her up so badly. She had almost accidentally kill Eragon, impaling his head on an outstretched spike clinging to her neck. The thought of such a thing happening…She'd never forgive herself…if she lived through the pain of such a sudden separation. And there was no doubt in her mind she'd experience something similar again. She gave a gentle shudder at the thought..

_Never, never again. I am a monster. I can't even protect the ones I love from myself…_ She thought to herself. She thought it with every ounce of conviction in her giant, blue-scalded body. But doubts crept in to her head. What if he needed her? What if, at this very moment, Murtagh had him? She shook those thoughts off. _He's better off without me. He'll make it. I know it. He is strong…_ she thought it, but she didn't really believe it.

Th clouds ahead grew ever closer and she could see a veil of rain shrouding the thick forests. But she flew on, growing ever nearer to the storm-clouds as they moved toward her.

As she flew, she felt guilty. She blamed herself for Katrina's actions. Hadn't she, after all, let her fall? And on her first flight as well? It was almost enough to convince her to go back. But something kept her going.

She also remembered how bad a shape she'd left Roran in. She felt so stupid. Could Eragon forgive her for leaving like this? She felt a small desire to return; but her wings still beat towards…well, she didn't know what…

And thoughts of memories brought up her role in the deception. Eragon had conversed his concerns about the Twins to her before. But she hadn't listened. How could the Varden not detect treachery, she had said. But now she knew how naïve she'd been. Maybe, if she had told Ajihad her concerns instead of remaining blind as a bat, Ajihad would still be alive and Murtagh and Thorn would be on their side still. At least she could have made it there faster to save Murtagh…

Guilt sunk in everywhere she turned. About everything. About Katrina. About Roran. About Thorn and Murtagh. Even old wounds, like Brom or Garrow's death. It was all darkness, shrouding her mind from the light and cutting off her enormous heart from its power source. She despaired, weeping up a gentle mist as rain started to fall.

_Do not despair, little one. All will be better in due time_. Rang a sweet, clear voice through her head. She started at the voice. She still had her barriors up, yet it had broken through.

_Who is there? And what right have you to call me a little one? Wait…Eragon? How did you break through my shield?_ She asked him defensively. She was a little relieved it was him. It really scared her to think it could be someone else…

_I am not he. But you already knew that, didn't you?_ It was true, Saphira realized. It just scarred her, thinking of who else it may be. Who else might slip, unnoticed, so easily-into the thoughts of a dragon. Who else could do something like that? What else were they capable of? Could someone whom had to be sneaky and slip into her thoughts be trusted to do good? As if reading her thoughts, the voice picked up again. _You may trust me._

_But who are you?_ Saphira asked impatiently, a touch of fear spilling out in her normally steady voice.

…_A friend…_ the voice answered.

For a moment, all she could her were her wings, beating, and the soft plopping of rain as it hit the canopy of trees to roll off to the forest bellow.

_I cannot trust anyone I cannot see…_Saphira answered.

_Then you may see me._ Saphira blinked in surprise, not thinking it'd be so easy. She hoped her luck would hold.

_In time, you may._ Well, some much for easy. Saphira sighed, shooting a short stream of fire out of her left nostril in frustration. It instantly dried her thin muzzle; though the rest of her was still soaked.

_Now is time, isn't it?_ Saphira replied, shaking off water as it continued to pour rain. It didn't help much; as the rain came right back with a vengeance. Soon she was as slippery, wet, and slick as she had been before she had bothered to try and shake the water.

She could fell thoughts coming through the link. It was strange, as she couldn't understand any of them. The reasoning was completely lost in words to complex fro even Saphira to decipher. The being was amazingly complex and smart. Its thoughts seemed to consider her, wondering if she should see it. It finally made up its mind, though very hesitant to give an answer.

_Come to me, daughter of the wind. You are wise. Now is indeed time. And I don't have the time I had thought I did. _The voice sang out sweetly.

_Where may I find you?_ She asked, confused.

_Daughter of the Winds and Fires, Bellow you lies the see of the forest that is not golden. Above you lay an endless plain of blackness. You may find you shine like the sun. But so does something else. Fly to the ocean's gift to the sky From there, you must follow the path of light to the birthplace of precious metal. Hiding underneath its metallic sheen is the water of fire. Follow its flow till it holds no glow. From there, you shall know where you are ment to go._ The link broke abruptly. It seemed this being would not give any secrets away for nothing.

Saphira blinked in confusion. This being was reminded Saphira how Brom would always dance around and around with words and never reveal their meaning. And how Eragon would beg for answers, but Brom would force him to learn for himself. Well, in this case, she was Eragon and the being was Brom. Now she knew why Eragon sometimes complained about riddles. Saphira had never heard of any of those places. And how was she supposed to find them.

_I don't understand this. Can you help me in anyway?_ She pleaded as she noticed the rain was letting up. Clouds still obscured the moon part of the way while little stars pushed to blink past the mists to be seen.

As if in answer, Saphira heard a noise. It was another set of the all too familiar beat of wings. She gave a toothy smile as she did. She believed it to be the being, so she turned to face it.

But instead of an unknown figure flying towards her, she saw a familiar glint of deep red, smelling and feeling a ominous evil which she had known for long …


	14. An odd friendship

Soon Saphira ocean blue's eyes could make out every ripple of muscle. Every slight drift in motion. The red gleam only grew; brighter and larger with each second like a demonic flame. She could see scales missing from his hide and several chipped spikes that were not like that before. The red beast's motions were fast; he had clearly seen her. She let him approach; knowing she must face him…alone. He pulled back his scaled lips for a menacing grin as he paused ten feet from her.

_We meet again…_ He snarled at her. _It's been too long…_

_Not long enough if you ask me._ Saphira snarled back as thunder snapped behind her. The firmness of her voice accompanied by the ferocity her blue form had could send chills down almost anyone's spine.

But not Thorn. He simply had an outraged mindset as his lips curled up and he snapped his jaws at her. He then flipped his jaws open and sent a torrent of blue flame jutting out of his gaping jaws. Saphira saw it coming and quickly veered off; flying towards the canopy bellow. But she wasn't quite fast enough. The torrent reached Saphira's side in mere seconds; singeing ever unfortunate scale it touched from a brilliant blue to a dull black. Saphira roared as the blue flame set her veins on fire. But they soon had relief. The pain of the burn was dulled by the chilling rain falling overhead.

Though the pain, she didn't even see it till it was upon her. Right behind the flame, a red form smashed into her. Ivory claws scratched iron scales it that moment. One clipped the corner of a hard group of scales, pushing them upwards; blood began to seep from beneath her wound as Saphira roared in pain. Thorn battered his spiked tail at her wings, tearing them in several places; and his long neck reached forward towards her head. His jaw found her soft ear and ripped it open; sending blood into her eye. She screamed and blasted a heavy torrent of flame at him; singeing his scales.

It kept him at bay, though not for long. Knowing she didn't have long, she folded her wounded wings in, wincing all the while, and made a quick dive towards the safety of the relative canopy. Thorn was right behind her; though she swerved and spun to confuse him. Her blue form pierce the tip of the canopy followed about ten feet apart by his blue one

But by the time he arrived, she was nowhere to be seen. He could see quite a bit of blood on the ground, but no tell tale signs of a dragon. No gouges piercing the earth. No broken branches; aside from the entering ones. He suddenly saw a flash of blue and looked up.

She wasn't there, though. The rain leaked through the roof of the canopy; slightly wetting his perspired body. Sweat poured from his joints and the rain and slight breeze, to him, felt soothing.

He heard a loud snap suddenly. To his right was a path of barely noticeable broken branches. His lips moved up in a toothy grin as he stumbled along the path.

From above, two, blue eyes watched him. On a thick branch, in the welcomed shadow of a cloud, rested what he was looking for. She was safe…for now. As Thorn frantically scoured the land bellow, Saphira reached out to Eragon. But she could not reach him.

She sighed in frustration. As she did, a thin stream of fire escaped her nostrils. The dry leaves just inches from water burst into flame. The light caught Thorn's eye. They gleamed with delight as they gazed upon the flames. Saphira dashed through the open canopy; sure Thorn was closed behind.

_Eragon!_ She sent a message of desperately to him. _Help!_ On the other line, she could feel his presence, but he was oblivious to her cries of desperation. Something blocked their link. Something powerful.

Bellow, there came a loud crack. Saphira looked to see Thorn's red form burst out of the tree line. He quickly spotted her and pumped his massive wings right after her. Saphira flew faster then she ever had before. But chases like this are what Thorn was made for; as Saphira was made for flight through thick forests. Soon he was on her tail; snapping it. She dove and rose to try to get away.

_Eragon! Where are you?_ She frantically called out as she screamed at the top of her lungs when Thorn's jaws clipped the tip of her tail.

Suddenly she felt an alien presence in her mind. _You must do this on your own, my dear. _

_Who-who is this?_

…_A friend…_And then she remembered the alien presence of earlier.

_Okay "friend." I don't think I shall call you that. You are blocking my link!_

_Very good, Saphira. But you must trust me. You need to do this alone._

_And what if I refuse?_

The being paused, as if thinking_…Your rider will die…_

_You wouldn't! I'd kill you first._

_I wouldn't but he would. It is simply the future. If you call for his help, he will die. He cannot defend from two alone._

_Murtagh is near him?_

_Yes, little one…_

Saphira broke the link and dove, once again, to the trees; knowing she could not out run Thorn. Soon she found herself in a new environment. Thick trees were bunched close together. The treacherous path was not safe. Some of the sharp branches were so enough to slip between their tightly woven armor; yet sharp enough to cause problems.

Thorn stumbled along; roaring as the sharp branches impaled his hide. But Saphira glided along; taking to the close forest trees as a fish would to a bed of corral. She was not slowed down much at all by the dense growth and soon, Thorn was behind her.

She paused; hovering over the earth. She felt something stinging in her wing. Suddenly, with a loud snap, her wings gave way. She dropped right out of the sky; falling into a slick mixture of mud and blood…her blood. Her wings ached and stung like a million hornets.

Several small tares broke their surface; exposing glimmering red blood beneath. Her right wing ached right on the bone and when she tried to flap it, she found she could not without it hurting and giving way fast. The bone was clearly broken. A large tare broke her other wing. Her wings could not catch the air currents so easy in this shape; but she tried anyway. She knew she must move to survive.

Her wings began rapidly flapping, rousing the leaves from the ground as they did. It seemed to be working. Slowly, she rose. First on inch. Two. Three. Four. Before she got to her fifth inch, though, she hear another snap and fell right back to the ground.

Into the mud. And into despair. She found herself crying uncontrollably. She knew Thorn and Murtagh were nearby, but what did it matter? She was badly wounded with a price on her head, a mad dragon out looking for her, and she couldn't even call Eragon. She should have never left Eragon's side. She should have sucked it up. She should have…

_Enough! You are a dragon for heaven's sake! A god to one as me! And if you are crying, then there is no hope for me!_ A voice rang in her head. Saphira stopped and blinked in surprise. When her eyes reopened, there sat a squirrel next to her. His tail was halved and he appeared to be picking at fleas. Wiry copper hair grew out from his thick skin. His beady black eyes never left her gaze. There was something about them… The little creature began nibbling at a flea in its hair.

_Are-are you talking to me?_ Saphira asked, startled. She glanced around to see if there was any other creatures nearby.

It stopped and looked at her. _No…I'm talking to another blue dragon…Why were you crying anyway?_

Saphira was looking off towards the west, not really paying much attention to the little squirrel. The sun was just peaking the rim of the far mountains. That was where she last saw Eragon…

Suddenly she heard a defining screech. She jumped to her feet, ready to fight. But it was just the little squirrel. He did not like being ignored. He repeated his question to her. _Why were you crying?_

_Take a look around, little one. My rider is nowhere to be seen, I don't know where I am, and to top it off, I injured my wings._ She promptly fanned her wings to show her scars. Many of them had dried blood on them that cracked as she moved them. The squirrel winced at the painful-looking gouges. His stomach was none too strong.

Looking away from the wounds, he said to her. _I can help. You are about a league from Silver Lake; on the shore in line with Helgrind. The water there is cool and fresh. It may be soothing on your wounds. _He paused, gesturing to one Saphira hadn't noticed. It was a long one that ran down the length on her neck. Then he went on. _I can't really help much about your rider, but tell me, was he near here last you saw him?_

_Nay, you see, little one, I ran away. One of his companions has ill treated me. But now I regret ever leaving his side…You've been of much help. I shall not forget you. But I must now go…_

_May I accompany you? These woods are full of predators. And I do need to go to Silver Lake anyway…_

Saphira gazed down at the little squirrel. It looked very thirsty, almost weak. Yes, a predator would almost certainly capture it. And she kind of liked the little creature. She hesitated. _You may come. But first, what is your name anyway, little one?_

_Staklvin. And yours?_

_Saphira._

_Beautiful name…Who gave it to you?_

_My rider. _She said as she began to tread away. Staklvin ran after her; having to bound eight times for every stride she made. Staklvin grew tired fast and daintily bounded up her tail. When it was clear she didn't mind, he made his way to the top of her head; where he gathered several leaves. Saphira wondered what he was doing and yearned to ask, but kept her mouth shut.

Overhead, Saphira saw the occasional flash of red; Thorn was obviously following. She could hear the beat of his wings and the soft, angry growls at no being able to directly follow her. She felt, for once, safe. Suddenly she tensed up. She remembered the vast pain just before that lake. It was likely he was biding his time; till he could attack her there. They'd have to move fast. So, she spoke up.

_We must rest. I fear something hunts me as well; and if we get there too fast, I fear I shall not be able to hold him off._

_Was he the one who did that to you?_

_Yes, little one._

_Well, I was going to ask after a while if we could rest._ As she collapsed her tree-trunk legs, he slid down her muzzle._ Sleep now. You'll feel better soon._

And within second, she was fast asleep.


	15. Two struggles midst the canopy

In the dark, Eragon could hear the snaps of branches and the crumple of leaves that accommodate the approach of someone. With each step, he grew more and more tense. He bent over, bow in hand. Several leaves rolled out from behind the tree he was behind as he drew a swan feather fletched arrow and notched it. He knew it was defiantly Murtagh, as he could feel his presence. He drew away, silently locking himself behind the iron wall of his mind.

Across from him, hiding behind a fat tree, Katrina hunched over in an awkward position, barely even daring to breath. Her copper hair messed up. Her clothes torn and bloody. Her blue eyes wide. There was a look in her eyes. The Look.

Fear.

Shear chaotic fear…

And anger.

Bubbling, boiling anger.

She knew what had to be done. He had her fiancé. He was allies with the king. With the _Ra'zac_. She despised that word so much. Her time in captivity had not been kind to her. They found ways…ways she did not believe were even remotely possible…of torturing her. So much pain. So many tears. So much grief. This would be her chance for revenge. The Ra'zac would loose an ally today if she had her way.

Eragon backed away; slowly moving to the shadows as a loud snap of a branch broke through the air. He took dainty steps, barely brushing the ground with the tips of his feet. He silently motioned for her to follow. She groaned a bit, saddened her way was not to be had. But finally she began backing away towards him.

Eragon knew her disappointment. Secretly, he was glad she couldn't kill Murtagh. He'd rather not see his brother's blood…_his_ blood…spilling. Not yet. He wasn't ready to see his friend, his ex-ally and a wonderful fighter, and his own flesh and blood, die.

Eragon lead her through the woods till they came upon a fat, massive, giant tree. It looked nearly one hundred and fifty feet high. Eragon motioned to Katrina. _Up_, the look said. She came to him, quickly and quietly as possible. Giving her a boost to the branch, she was soon up. Then she reached down to help him. Up and up they climbed. Higher and higher till the forest floor had nearly disappeared in a shower of branches. The branch they rested on was large enough for each to sleep comfortably side by side; though not end to end. But they could not sleep. Oh no. Maybe one. But never both at a time.

"Go ahead. Sleep." Eragon said, gesturing to Katrina. She needed no more urging. Her blue eyes hid bags tall as the tree they perched on. A look of shear exhaustion filled her face as her eyelids shut out the world for what remained of the night.

Eragon looked around. The sun was just rising. Red light flickered down between the branches. He shifted into the light of a large ray, basking in its warmth. But as he sat, a thick liquid greeted his legs. He looked down, gasping.

Blood.

Thick, dark red blood.

He checked himself for wounds. Strangely, he found none that were so bad as to bleed so much. Katrina hadn't even sat anywhere near there. Plus, he could see no major wounds on her. So where did all this blood come from? Surly it could not have been any small creature. The only way it could have was if the poor thing lost every drop of blood to its name.

He looked around. Many nearby branches were broken. Just above him, a large area was charred to a coal black color. Ash and soot, which had gone unnoticed in the dim light of earlier, now littered the branches. As if something here had caught fire. He wished he could see the ground better. Maybe it was Saphira…no, he hoped not truly. There was few reasons for the signs he saw to be her. And none were good.

Giving a slight sigh, he began scaling the branches, just to ensure Saphira wasn't near. As he climbed, his min found its way back to Roran. It made no sense. Knowing Murtagh, he would have just stayed there and waited till they returned. Then he would make his move…wouldn't he? Typically, Murtagh thought these things over for hours before taking action. It just didn't fit. Not at all. And, if he had really found Roran, he'd have known they were nearby. And yet, the way he moved, the noisy, disturbing way, suggested everything but that they had been discovered.

Eragon was so busy contemplating what had happened, he suddenly lost his balance. Fear sunk in as his feet sway from side to side. He reached out to try and grab something, but there was nothing to grab. In the gold wash of sunlight, nothing but fresh blue skies basked. Eragon attempted to center his weight, swaying opposite the direction his body threatened to fall. It seemed to work, as slowly, his body began leveling out.

Finally he felt safe. In the fresh gold wash of morning, was a rich forest to all sides. The trees were in a wash of thousands of green hues. Bright emerald greens of drnoberry trees, deep, nearly black greens of charrwoods, rich, golden greens of treasure trees, thick, spiny evergreen green of spine wood, and light, bubbly green of seasalt trees poke-a-doting the landscape; broken only twice by a short clearing and a silvery-blue blot known as a lake all hid in a giant caldera that was from an ancient volcano. Distant mountains framed the western most end, sharply contrasting to the green forest and shrouding the sights beyond.

He could hear the mindless chatter of the creatures bellow. A robin fighting with a crow over a nesting sight. A squirrel screaming at a chipmunk for steeling its seeds. The soft drabble of a sleeping bear and her cubs jostling over their meal of milk And the gentle babble of Katrina in her dream world. Eragon sighed. He could not hear…or feel…Saphira anywhere. He missed her so. _You really don't know what you have till it's gone._ He thought sadly to himself.

Suddenly, a gleam yanked him out of his thoughts and back to the cold reality. He could hear the pump of wings and a touch of furry along with it. With an ear-spiting roar, Eragon discerned the gleam as a giant red dragon.

Thorn.

Quick as he could, he dipped bellow the tree line, hiding midst the thick branches just before the red form wisped right past him. Eragon suddenly felt wet. He looked over at the source and gasped.

Blood.

Freshly drawn blood.

Thorn was hurt. That probably meant Saphira was as well. Nothing could take on a dragon of either of their size but each other. Panic stricken, he began recklessly climbing back down to where Katrina lay. If Saphira was hurt, she needed help! He couldn't just sit there all day!

Before he even knew it, he could see the branch. But something was seriously wrong. Katrina was not on it. Neither was his bow or quiver. He heard a loud crack from just bellow him and noticed her hunkered down on the branch, bow in hand, arrow notched. He noiselessly jumped down to the branch. She noticed him and quietly signaled him to her. She mouthed "down there" to him. He gave her a look, then followed her gaze. It rested on someone he never expected.

Murtagh.

He lay there; sprawled out across the floor and fast asleep…

And the notched arrow pointed right at his heart!

Eragon frantically nudged Katrina, mouthing "No." Defiantly, Katrina pulled back the bowstring. Eragon, forced with no other choice, ripped the bow from her hand, leaving several splinters as she did so.

"What are you doing?" He whispered angrily.

"I could as you the same. Why do you defend him? Is he not our enemy?" Katrina whispered back, her tone matching his.

"Yes… no…I don't know! Katrina, please try to understand! He's my brother. I don't say it often, but make no mistake. My blood is his. And I cannot lose him. Not yet, at least. Not here, not now…"

"Eragon, if he's going to die, why not here? Why not now?"

"Because he is not meant to here or now." A strange fire burned in Katrina's eyes then. She suddenly dove for the bow. The motion caught Eragon off guard and within seconds, Katrina had the bow again and was prepared to fire. But then, just as the bowstring snapped, Eragon crashed into her, sending the arrow the opposite way into the canopy.

"WHY…"Katrina started, but then glared down at the stirring Murtagh and lowered her tone to a sudden whisper, "did you do that?"

Before Eragon could even breathe again, a loud roar resonated through the treetops. Bellow, Eragon saw out of the corner of his eye, Murtagh jumped to his feet instantly. But it was not him his focus centered on. From the top of the forest, a giant portion of trees broke apart to reveal a massive sapphire gleam. Swiftly it moved through the trees, more like swam really, right to their branch. Soon, hovering right before Eragon was the most beautiful sight he thought he could have seen at the moment.

Saphira.

The brilliant blue scales of her hide were more glorious then ever to him, though caked in mud and blood. Her eyes gazed into his for a long moment. Then she affectionately breathed on him. He reached out to touch her head. She quickly and happily embraced his hand, eye filled with tears.

_Saphira?_ He said softly. It was more of a question then a statement, as if clarifying she was real and not some mirage brought on by stress.

_He-hello, little one._ She stuttered out. Eragon felt ready to burst into tears. Her wings were torn. Her right eye was blood shot and caked in blood. Long scars and deep, gaping wounds covered her whole body. Her right ear was nearly bitten off. Two claws were missing and one spike was chipped. In truth, she looked terrible. But their could not have been a better sight in the whole galaxy. But that wasn't the only thing.

Eragon suddenly noticed what lay on her back. Roran. Her tears grew bigger and when Katrina saw him, she quickly joined Eragon in the bawling fest. He looked no different but that his hair was drenched.

Eragon finally put his hand on her scaly flank. _It is good to see you. I missed you._

_And I, you._ Saphira answered with giant tears in her eyes. _We have a lot to catch up on. But first, who shot me?_ She asked as she flapped her right wing. In the thin wing membrane, an arrow was lodged. Eragon glared at Katrina, who was cowering as she noticed the wound.

"Sorry…" She said. She stared laughing. Soon, they all were.


	16. A problem and proficy in Aberon

_What else can I do, Saphira? I know I can do more! _Eragon asked as they flew. Roran was sitting limply in the front. He could not be roused and every so often, blood seeped out of his ears. There had to be something he wasn't doing right! Hadn't there? No one had gotten any sleep. They had left as soon as they could; not wanting to become Murtagh's prisoners. And even now Eragon nervously glance off Saphira, searching the trees for his brother.

_We did every thing in our power, little one. Now it's all up to him._ She answered as Katrina broke into a new cascade of sobs. She was clearly aware his condition wasn't good.

_I won't let him die…not in battle, not because of me, and especially not because of those bags of filth! They will pay, Saphira. I swear it. They will pay…_

Eragon looked ahead to see Surda. The small nation stood in perfect stillness as the sun rose. Eragon sighed in relief. They'd be safe here…well mostly. Assassins wouldn't bother them; they wouldn't dare make a rider angry. But as for kidnappers and down right thugs, they'd have plenty; though not nearly as much as they'd have in the empire.

He looked back to his cousin. He was pale as death and too still. He reached out to touch his weak face and pulled back. The skin was so hot; he won't be surprised if he had been burned. He checked his hand just to be sure he wasn't. He had to blink back the tears. He couldn't let Katrina know he was so worried. It would pull her already down spirit lower.

Beside, Roran wouldn't…couldn't die. Could he? He'd been there, through everything. Through love and lust. Through heartbreak and betrayal. He had so much more of a life to live. And he had so much to give. He was soon to have a wife and she loved him very much. He was a skillful warrior and a good friend. He had the makings of a great leader. And he had already done so much…

_Hurry Saphira! He doesn't have much time!_

She didn't answer, but Eragon saw her wings pick up speed, straining to get there and she was working as hard as she could. The country of Surda sped out from underneath them faster then a lightning bolt. They probably were a lightning bolt to any whom saw them. A firry blue lightning bolt. By late-mourning, their worried eyes rested on Surda's capital, Aberon.

Saphira touched down on the outskirts. They didn't exactly have a dragon landing pad in the city. And it was full of people. Plus, landing there could cause many problems. None of which they'd have time to deal with. Katrina and Eragon quickly scrambled off her and left Roran with his legs strapped in the saddle.

Eragon winced in pain. His legs were bleeding; old scars from Saphira's first flight had been remade, but not nearly as bad. His legs had toughened up since then. Katrina gave a similar hurt face and he could tell it had hurt her too.

But she sucked it in and went to Roran's side. It had seemed impossible that he could get into worse shape a while ago; but somehow, he had. His fever was even higher and he hadn't eaten. They had to drizzle water into his mouth with a rag to get him to drink; which they did frequently.

"We need to get him to Angela. She may be able to help." Eragon said, slightly writhing in pain. Saphira gave a sympathetic nuzzle; understanding the weak saddle had put him at the mercy of her sharp, hard scales, digging into his tender legs. She gave a low rumble as her share in the pain came to her.

Eragon quickly healed his and Katrina's scars. Then they began their descent into Aberon.

The silence they had once heard quickly disappeared as they came upon the city. The traders advertising goods, horses and other animals traversing through the city, mindless chatter of the people inside the city, gates clanking closed, opening gates straining, and many other noises bathed the city. The city was a neat collaboration of buildings; all in neat rows with evenly spaced streets, each a bit higher then the other to keep from invasion. It had no definite schemes of color; unlike most other cites. Tans, whites, blacks, browns, the buildings came in many different colors. The sights were the same as many other cities; random people on the streets crowding them, wagons from near-by farms taking their goods to markets, auctions and sales, and streets clearing for important peoples. One major difference between this city and cites of the empire was the fact that not a slave was in sight or in the city period. Slaves were captured here, not sold here.

The gates easily parted for Eragon, Katrina, and Saphira. The guards all recognized Eragon, Shadeslayer, and Saphira. They'd have to be fools not to. The crowds melted with smiles on their faces as Eragon and his friends past. They were silent with awe as mighty dragon and her rider past. Then, someone started cheering. Another joined. And another. Yet another. Soon all the crowd was cheering, raising their voices in praise for the mighty Shadeslayer and Brightscales. Hands flailing and whistles raising, they moved through the exited crowds.

"Eragon, Shadeslayer!" The crowd roars as they passed.

It was the warmest welcome they'd had for a long time. A small band even began to play a joyful melody as the group passed. And it continued like this till they came upon the palace.

"Eragon!" Came a shout from the palace.

Dress in a richly embroidered purple velvet dress with sleeves that almost touched the ground, a dark woman with her hair pinned back came out to greet them. Well, more like careened out. A big, beautiful smile clothed her dark lips as she came. And she almost knocked Eragon over hugging him, clearly overjoyed. She had the sharpest brown eyes Katrina had ever seen. And her skin was blacker then midnight. Bangs extended to her eye brows. She looked very important. A rich perfume hung in the air around her. She and Eragon laughed as they held their embrace.

Finally, after they were done, she noticed Katrina. Katrina quickly tried to straighten up. She looked a fright. Her hair was a tangled mat of copper; her clothes in rags. Her face was dirty. She felt embarrassed as she tried to straighten out. She quickly curtsied as the lady looked her over.

"And who might this be?" She said addressing Katrina. Katrina opened her mouth to answer, but clamped it shut when the woman spoke again. "Ah…I know. Roran spoke of you frequently. Katrina, right?"

"Yes madam."

"Katrina, meet my liege lord. Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden." Eragon said.

"Leader of the Varden!" She said quietly to herself. The so everyone could hear, she said, curtsying again lower though, "An honor to meet you, Lady Nasuada."

"An honor to meet the one whom Roran so lovingly speaks of." She paused to look around. "Where is Stronghammer anyway?" She asked with an inquisitive look in her eyes. She saw in Katrina's eyes a strong grief at her question. She gasped. "Oh dear no. I'm so sorry. Is he-" She brushed a tear from her eye.

"No, milady. He is not." Eragon said. Pulling Nasuada close, he added, "But he very soon shall be if he is not taken to Angela." Saphira shifted to finally reveal Roran, lying limply in the saddle. Nasuada gasped.

"By gods, what happened?"

"Ra'zac. They got him pretty hard. I've done the best I can with him." Eragon said as he untied him from the saddle.

"Right. Follow me." Nasuada said as she turned and started to walk. Then she paused and gazed at them." Angela is up stairs with Elva. I'll take you to her. Katrina, I can have my servant take you to a room if you want." She said as two rather large men. They quickly picked up Roran and carried him between the two.

"I want to see the one who may save my fiancé." She said stubbornly.

"Fine. But I have warned you, okay." She said as she gestured them to follow. She led them through the palace corridors and up a flight of stairs. The way was dark, only lit by a few candles. A rat scampered across their path. Katrina gave a light shriek, but then glanced at Roran and walked on. Katrina stumbled a little and wondered for a moment…but as quickly as the thought came, she dismissed it. There had to be some other reason for her dizziness. She glanced at Eragon.

"What does she mean by 'I have warned you'?" Katrina asked in a tone only Eragon could hear. It was more to get her mind off her new thought then to actually know where they were going though.

"Elva…is cursed. I, in all my stupidity, tried to bless her and said a word wrong. Shield instead of shielded, man was I ever stupid…. Anyway, she can see into the future and always has to use her magic to save a doomed person. And gods above, does she look horrific…" Eragon shuddered.

"What does she look like?" She asked as they walked through a long hall. Nasuada turned to a door on the left.

"You're about to see…" he said as Nasuada opened a large, black door with a brass amethyst studded handle.

Inside, the room was almost all black but two candles. One was in the far corner of the room. The other was in the center. Near the one in the corner sat a kind of old lady. Her waves of brown-grey hair were tied back tightly with a black ribbon. She wore a long, lose-fitted black dress. Her silver eyes were tired yet full of great wisdom. A wry smile formed on her face when she saw them.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of Roran. But Eragon, you need to fix Elva. Right now." She said. Katrina was about to ask how she knew about Roran when she said, "To answer the question you were just about to ask, dearie, it is my business to know these things."

Eragon walked to the center of the room, where a young black-haired girl sat. She must have been three or four years old. Before her sat a giant plate of food and the girl viciously ate it, like a wild animal. As she finish, eating as if she never had before, she turned towards the strangers. Katrina gasped. She was pale as a ghost. Dark bangs partially hid a silvery mark on her brow like Eragon's palm. Her deep red lips curved into a menacing grin. But the most striking feature about her by far was her eyes. They were huge, purple, deep eyes. They seamed to tear through her; to see every good thing she's done, and the bad. They saw her past, her present, and her future. Katrina felt nauseated and stumbled forward. Eragon caught her fall and smiled.

Eragon crouched low by her, right palm covering the silvery mark on her head. The two marks seemed to light up the room

"Eragon," Katrina shivered. She was just a little girl, yet her voice sounded of a hardened, experienced adult, "you came-" Suddenly, she stopped dead in her words. Her whole body began twitching, writhing in pain. She gave a shrill screech, like that of a bat. The mark on her forehead burned, sending Eragon's palm flying off. It seethed a brilliant blood red. Her eyes glazed over. She slowly rose, her form growing till it towed over then. Katrina jumped back to the far corner while Eragon simply rose slowly. In an unearthly wail, Elva began to speak, "Pain. I see pain. There is also one, whom you all are intertwined with. Happiness, love, betrayal, pain, suffering, _death_. One whom is much loved shall feel all soon. Blood shall spill. An innocent life shall be taken on the eve before battle. This doom, is inescapable…." Suddenly, Elva fell limp. Almost too slow to notice, her features became normal… Well for her anyway. The four slowly got up the courage and gathered around the limp form.

"We cannot take her powers away now. There shall be no telling of whom is otherwise." Nasuada said solemnly.

"I, sadly, agree." Angela added.

"What about Roran?" Katrina asked.

"Bring him in." Angela said reluctantly as she set Elva on a small bed in then far corner of the room.

Lady Nasuada called her servants, who were outside for fear of Elva, in. They came with nervous looks on their faces and Roran's corpse-like body. He looked even worse then he had before.

"Now, if you excuse me. I have an important meeting with Orrin soon and must go freshen up." Nasuada said as she curtsied and took her leave.

Eragon shuttered as he watched Roran being lowered onto the bed. He wanted to stay with his cousin, but he knew he had important duties he needed to take care of. He left him in the constant care of Katrina and Angela very reluctantly. But he had to pass on the news.


	17. The plan

"And you're sure he wasn't just trying to trick you into thinking _that_?" Asked Nasuada. Eragon had spent the last hour talking with her. She had consulted Orrin for maybe five minutes, then left to talk with Eragon. They had finally reached an agreement about Eragon's plans. They would do them.

To their left, pillars lined the palace gardens. Bees buzzed around it; pollinating the strange, brightly colored flowers of orange, blue, purple, red, green, violet, yellow, gold, and silver.

A strange flower like a dragon snap shifted as a bee landed on it. It was fire orange in the wide open center and a shiny blue on the top and bottom. The lip of the flower was lined with glinting golden teeth. It began to shake violently. Then it snapped shut on the black and gold bee. Around it, similar flowers did the same; all with differing amounts of success. Eragon winced slightly as ten tiny bees silently died. It was amazing, how fragile life was. Some could survive through anything, yet others, like the bees, died with ease.

To their right were elegantly carved doors. The carvings told amazing stories of love, peace, and dragons. Some were old enough to have seen the true stories of the riders, both sad and wonderful. They were only occasionally broken up by purple teak doors; all inlaid with similar carvings.

The vanilla limestone the carvings were made of complemented the shiny white marble floors. Lords and ladies clambered past them; bowing to both slightly with out a word. Almost no scratches littered the floors; despite the royal beating they received from everything from horses to high heels.

The only scratches were the new ones from Saphira. Even they could not stand the mighty hardness of dragon claw. Saphira had politely agreed to not lay her claws on the marble. If she had to be there, she would have to hover above the ground.

"Yes. Why else would I be here? He was out to try and catch me. He would have; had he known I was right there." Eragon replied. A noble dressed in black passed. Eragon strained to see his face, but to no avail. There was something proud about him…and cruel. The man gave a deep bow to show respect. Eragon answered with a dignified nod.

"Okay. So we have a week. I think two people will cover it. Since you wish to go, that means we still need to find one more." The man gave a graceful bow to her. She replied with an elegant curtsy. The man nodded and walked away.

They continued walking. A thought burned in Eragon a he just had to let it out.

"My liege, I want Roran to go too." Nasuada stopped dead. She turned away from Eragon.

"Eragon," Nasuada paused. She turned back to face him. She gave a deep sigh then continued, "you know better then I he isn't going to-" she stumbled. Her voice crumbled at the thought.

But Eragon didn't need to have her go on. He knew his cousin's likely fate…he hadn't responded well to the treatments. They were doing all they could. But…he wasn't going to make it.

A tear came to Eragon's eye. He tried to blink it back before Nasuada saw, but she beat him to it.

But Nasuada, determined to stay optimistic, said, "If he gets better by he time of the mission, he may go." Her voice rippled in solemn sorrow and sympathy. Eragon acknowledged the words in her eyes and the tremble of her voice. "I'm sorry Eragon." She softly whispered.

They started to walk again.

"Yes my liege. Now, about how we are going to get in. It pains me to say it, but I must say. I do look a lot like…" Eragon stumbled. Even walls have ears. Plus he was still uncomfortable with calling Murtagh his brother. No matter how real a fact that was.

"Your brother, Eragon." Nasuada said softer then a whisper in Eragon's keen elf ears. They stopped. She took a deep breathe and continued, "You can say it. You are wise, however, to keep this from unwelcome ears." A group of near-by nobles were clearly straining to hear what they were saying. Nasuada gave a quick glare to them.

She looked into his eyes. He, into hers. They exchanged a knowing glance; for admit it or not, they both loved Murtagh. Nasuada felt the sting of true love for Murtagh; Eragon felt a sibling's love. But there was a major difference between them. Eragon felt no faith in Murtagh while Nasuada still did.

Eragon said after a long pause, "Anyway, all I need is a cheap disuse to get in and out. If we do it at night, landing in the courtyard, no one will see the differences between Saphira and Thorn. Anyone whom gets to close can be easily silenced. We'll have a small window; for the moon shines bright this whole week. Our only hope is a half an hour after the sun sets. Many clouds gather then. They may clear later; I think three hours at least to clear. After that, even dim eyes of soldiers under too much beer will no be so easily fooled. Two nights from now seems the most promising." Nasuada thought for a moment. It was a well conceived plan, but it was also very risky.

"How do you know this?"

"The elves are great weather predictors. I have merely learned their ways."

"Two nights? I thought you want Roran to come."

"I do; but we cannot risk too late in the week. I have little assurance they shall not return near then. Besides, if Roran is to recover…" he spoke no more. For he had said enough. Besides, he knew if he said anymore, he would burst into tears.

"Very well, Shadeslayer. Two nights."

Soon the air was filled with a familiar thud of wings and a deep metallic roar. Ladies and lords gathered around the gardens; jostling for a better view of the giant sapphire dragon who was touching down in the center of the clearing in the garden. She had been following them from the sky and had already been completely filled in. Swirling wind stirred up weak flowers; sending them into the sky. Soon the clearing was under a thin sheet of blue wings. Eragon went to her with a great smile on his face. Many flowers surrounded her, sharply contrasting her beautiful blue scales. They shone back the flower's reflections, creating a kaleidoscope of color. Nobles surrounded her, though keeping their distance.

Saphira gave a grin and yawned, long, pearly tear showing strongly; making the nobles jump back a bit. Eragon suppressed a laugh. Here she was giving a submissive gesture and the nobles were terrified. Saphira held back a laugh too. Waves of jerky motion went down her as she silently giggled.

_Nice to see you, little one._ Saphira said, still giggling.

_You too._ Eragon answered.

_I thought we could go for a fly before lunch._ Though what she said wasn't sad, there was a look in her eyes which spoke of a sad emotion. He frowned and climbed into the saddle. Saphira started to move as he strapped his legs in. Soon they were out of the view of the nosey nobles.

_What's wrong? _

_Nothing. I was just thinking. What if the betrothed one dies? He and you are such the likeness of the other. That would mean I could loose you just as easily. What if something goes wrong? _Eragon noticed the great sorrow in her words.

_Let us not talk of such things. I want to enjoy this. I can't go long on the ground without being reminded of Roran's state. _

_You have cried enough. I shall show you a good time. _

Suddenly, she rose up, high in the sky. Some light cirrus clouds wisped swirled around with the beat of her wings. They blended with the sky, as the clouds lightened them. Eragon felt as if he was simply floating in the sky, the golden rays streaking through the clouds to keep him just warm enough.

Saphira angled her body down so Eragon could see the lands of Surda. Bellow, everything was laid out before him like a perfect model of the world he knew. With all the snowy white, rich vanilla, butterscotch, metallic gold, sunset orange, candy apple red, light pink, crystalline purple, lilac, ocean indigo, radiant royal blue, crystal clear blue, Caribbean aqua, marvelous sea foam green, deep evergreen, charcoal black, and sleek silver, Aberon and the surrounding area were a sight to see.

To one end lay endless oceans. This was a complete mystery to him. Who knew what lay beyond the confines of the Alagasian peninsula? To the other, the land Eragon had lived and grew on. The long roads, snaking in and out of Aberon, kicking fine dust from them into the air with each gust, were all too familiar; as were the places they lead to. Every inch Alagaesia was his home.

From the cliffs being battered by waves of aqua off the Spine on the western shores, to Du Weldvarden's endless mixed forest chatter, to Lake Leona's crystalline shores, to the wind in the grass of Surda's prairies, to valleys of sheer green hidden by the massive Beors, and finally to the ever churning sands of the Hadarac Desert, Alagaesia was a beautiful place to live. Full of enough diversity in landscape to fit the need of the wild people that lived on its soils. And Eragon felt like he was meant to forever defend such a beautiful place.

Light turbulence brought his mind back from the thousands of scenes he'd seen. Ice crystals just finished covering his eyelashes when suddenly Saphira's wings stopped. Her body began to drop into the wild kaleidoscope of colors bellow. Adrenaline rushed through Eragon's veins as she dove, making him feel incredibly alive. As they near the ground, Eragon found himself in a fit of thrilled laughing.

He forgot every problem he'd ever faced or were to come in that moment. Katrina, the Ra'zac, Murtagh, Galbatorix, Roran's condition, none existed in that moment. All that existed was Rider and dragon.

Saphira's wings snapped open and caught the air currents suddenly, right before they hit the ground. They lunged forward as her tail skimmed the ground. With each effortless beat her wings made, they rose ten feet. One beat. Two beats. Five beat. Ten beats. Eighteen beats. Finally, Saphira froze. Hovering in mid air, she began to tug on his consciousness.

Knowing what she had planed, or rather not actually, Eragon eagerly let go. He felt his mind snap into hers as she lunged forward. He felt no cold, no fear or nausea, as she spiraled back down, piercing the air like a dart. Soon, he could no longer see Aberon, but only ocean. He found himself once gain laugh is they dove in and out of the crystal clear waters. Each time they did, the only thing he didn't like was getting a mouthful of salt. But everything was so vivid, the aqua waters so amazing, he did not mind.

They plunged beneath the waves again not as two separate individuals, but one. Eragon was shocked at how sensitive her scales were. He felt like he could count each grain of salt which touched their flank. Bellow, he could see every groove in the corral with exquisite detail. Bright, tropical fish dashed in and out of it as they saw their giant shadow come over them. Lurking in the far distance, they could see a shark, waiting for its next meal. Ten feet away was a sheer drop off, falling into sheer blackness of the murky depths.

Like a giant sea serpent, they plunged out of the crystalline waters to see several nobles crowding the shore. Some screamed as the vivid blue dragon launched herself into the air. Others screamed at the water chasing their feet, not the dragon. A few just smiled or laughed at the other foolish nobles. Only one just stood there, unreadable expression on his face. Shrouded in black, no one could make him out. Eragon felt uneasy as he disappeared behind them.

But soon, he was refocused on their fight. Eragon could feel every strain of their wings, every shift in their tail. But, slowly at first then faster and faster, it began to fade. Eragon strained to keep their connection, but to no avail. Despite his protests, he soon was back in his own skin. He shivered as the chill of the wind stole his breath. It was amazing how much warmer dragons were then humans. He had not been cold at all before, but now he felt like he had so long ago, trapped in the mountain with Saphira on the rampage.

Suddenly, like a wild fire, he felt a deep seated nausea. Roran! How could he have forgotten? His own cousin…he was in trouble! Maybe he had already died while he was busy having fun! He felt dirty, discussing. Without warning, he lost that morning's breakfast all over Saphira's side. She groaned.

_Now I have to wash that off. Thank you._ She said smugly. When he didn't laugh and she saw him crying, she shuddered. _I'm sorry, Eragon. I don't really mind. I can wash it off later. Don't cry. _

Eragon raised his brow at her, realizing she thought he was mad at her. _It's not you. I just remembered Roran. I just felt terrible about having fun while he's DYING! _He bit his lip.

_Well, let's go visit him. But first, do you mind?_ She asked as she froze over the deep blue waters of the off-shore areas.

_Why not?_ He said just before she plunged into the icy waters. All it was was a quick in and out to wash up, but Eragon still completely lost his breath as his body hit the waters. But all he could think of was Roran. He had to see him soon!

Sensing his urgency, Saphira sped back towards Aberon, wings straining to reach it as fast as possible. It didn't take long before the sun and winds dried Eragon. But it had all taken its toll. The salt water left his clothes bleached, his skin sticky, and his hair frizzed out by the sun and salt. He tried to straighten, but to no avail. Soon they were at their destination.

He jump off Saphira and began racing down the corridors to his room. Eragon flushed as a passing group of lords and ladies snickered. at his salt crusted cheeks, frizzled hair, and uneven colored clothes.

"Shadeslayer." They gawked sarcastically. Amidst their group was the same man from earlier. Eragon wondered for a brief moment who…or what…he was.

But he set his mind back to Roran and soon he could see the dark door which held Roran behind it. He quickly opened the door to see a group of about ten healers around him. Among them were Arya, Trianna, Angela, and six other people he was sure he'd seen before. One he'd never seen before, but he thought nothing of it. They all swiveled around to gaze upon him. The room was dark and smelled strongly of spice and some other odor he couldn't put his finger on. But it smelled terrible. Four torches attempted to light the large room but to no avail. They broke a small bit of darkness only, allowing Eragon to see strung up flowers and herbs. Angela gave an impatient look and the others returned to what they were doing.

Then she sighed, got up, and walked to over Eragon. "As I told Katrina, we need our space. Do not worry about him. These things take time."

"I want to see him."

Angela sighed. "You won't want to once you have. I must return to work. Leave. You let the light in. It is best to have darkness for his condition."

"I want to see him." Eragon replied, stubbornly.

"…Come with me." She said as she turned to then door. Eragon gave a quick look of confusion to Arya, who shrugged then went back to working. Then he shrugged and followed. Quickly he caught up with the wily old witch. She smiled when she saw him, a sad but genuine smile.

"Your cousin is in bad shape…" she began, "he has a large amount of internal bleeding, which is causing his brain to swell. If it gets too large, it may just crack his skull or impair his ability to do certain things. You'd better hope it's the latter, because he'll die if it's the other one. Even if we get him back to normal, there is no guarantee he won't end up with permanent mental damage. If we had caught the bleeding early on…well should just deal with what we have."

Then she just left him with a shocked look on his face. She went back into the room. But when Eragon tried to follow, he found it was locked. He turned to leave, but a matter of the utmost importance came to his attention. He was hungry. It wasn't lunch time yet, so he decided to go see Saphira and then go freshen up.

It didn't take long before he and Saphira were together again. She sat in a makeshift dragon barn-for the real on had yet to be built. He found her fast asleep, but made no attempt to wake her. Instead, he climbed onto her shoulders, stroking her scaly neck. He found himself softly cooing a song, rather a song made out of a prophecy, he'd learned long ago,

When green fire meets sky,

The broken dragon turns to fly,

Behind his rider shall die.

Sweet lizard, do not weep,

For Rider was born to be a sheep

And your life you shall ever keep.

Forevermore

Evermore

Forevermore

As Eragon finished the tune, he had the strangest feeling. Like they were being watched. Scurried. He pulled out the old dwarven necklace and stuck in on. Strangely, it didn't get hot or anything. He waited for a long moment. Still, nothing.

As quick as it had came, the feeling faded. Eragon waited apprehensively. Suddenly, a bell chimed. Eragon smiled. He got up slowly and left for lunch.

* * *

**Let me clearify something for my readers. I do not hate any of the Eragon charactors. This includes Katrina, Arya, and Trianna. But I do dispise when charactor are too perfect. So, in all the fics I own, I prize on fixed this problem of having no problems. Conflicts, like Katrina hating Saphira, do help. As you can see in this chapter, I fix Eragon's perfection. He gets embrassed because he looks bad.**


	18. Life, death, and one tear filled bride

I don't own Eragon; just these sticky situations I am so mean to put them in.

A soft golden glow wavered into existence in the dark room. The candle burns brightly as the two blues eyes whom had gave it life watches it flicker, flame slowly growing even as she watched. How simple it was; yet it provided thousands with warmth and security…or it killed everything one held dear.

She closed her eyes and wished life was that simple. On her lap, the weak head of a dying man sat. She loved him with all her heart and soul, but sometimes, she just wished life was as simple for her as it was for that flame. A fire never really died, or if it did, it was sure not to be too painful.

She held his head tighter, cradling it gentle in her hands. She ran her hands through his greasy brown hair. Her eyes were fixed on his; dreaming they might open. Those brown eyes were all he wanted to see at the moment. She bent over and kissed him softy on the forehead. His skin scalded her lips. She winced softly. Her love could not save him and she knew it; but all the same she was disappointed when he hadn't stirred as she kissed him. She beamed for a moment, but then she realized he would not wake. He skin was hot and drenched in sweat. She took a rag and stuck it into cool sugar water; drizzling it into his mouth.

"Please, Roran. I love you. Don't die." She breathed into his pale ear, softer then the breeze stirring the trees just outside.

She leaned over and laid her head on his chest. She could feel his shallow, wheezy breathing; his heart slowly beating. She frowned at the thought of that drum stopping, or that soft breeze disappearing, forevermore.

She got a sinking feeling; knowing each labored breathe and weak heart beat could be his last. It was only a matter of time now. There was nothing more that could be done.

She silently cursed Saphira. If not for her, her fiancé won't be as good as…no she couldn't even say the word in her mind. _Her_ Roran? Gone? She shrunk at the thought.

But then she felt the weak, labored breathes and wondered. What if? What if… he died? Could she love another? Her brain said yes, but her heart said no.

The candle flickered as the black oak door open. She had expected Angela but instead, before her was Eragon.

"How is he?" Eragon said. His voice was sad and cracked. It was like he hadn't drunk in a long time. She briefly questioned herself why. Then Katrina realized why it was so dry. He, Alagaesia's last hope, Shadeslayer, great sorceress and warrior, Argetlam, had been crying.

"As good as can be expected." She replied sourly.

"It's all my fault…" he concluded despairingly.

"No," Katrina bit her lip. In many ways, he was right. "it's not your fault." She lied.

"Yes it is." Eragon replied, a sullen look in his eye. Eragon came over. He bent to touch Roran's face. Dark lines silhouetted his under eyes. He had been busy; and worried. She could feel his disappointment in that Roran had only gotten worse since his last visit.

"I feel that you and he may fair better in the sunshine. I set up a tent in the gardens. You may rest there till…whatever is to happen happens." His voice was solemn. Katrina nodded. He was right. Maybe the fresh air could help.

She lifted Roran from the bed. He was much lighter and his skin sagged with every motion. Eragon joined her; coming quickly to her aid. He made an odd face when he realized how light he was. As they left the room, they passed many people. All was dead silent, for they knew Stronghammer's fate. They froze where they stood. If they had caps or hats of any kind, they removed them out of respect for the fallen hero. many mouthed blessings or words of comfort.

Finally, they were there. They had reached the gardens.

Katrina had not been to many places in the palace, as she was tending Roran half the time and worrying the other half; but she somehow knew this was the most beautiful. The air was pungent with sweet aromas, the smells so rich that no perfume could even try to match these scents.

The flowers gleamed; like the soil grew the finest gems. Colors which can't be appropriately described on paper covered the flowers. Some had rich, dull colors which were simple yet elegant. Others were as complex and beautifully colored as the most amazing sunset.

In particular, one caught her eye. She's seen in before. And it was almost terrible to see it again. The flower had a river of vivid color. It slowly shifted through the rainbow, catching every color worth seeing. She blinked back a tear as she remembered.

Flashback.

"Just ahead." Roran promised. He walked hastily downhill through the spine. For steps behind him was Katrina in all her birthday glory. Roran had promised a special surprise for her birthday and she simply couldn't wait. Roran's twentieth had yet to come. He was only one year younger though.

"Honestly, what is it?" Katrina asked, giggling slightly when he turned around and tickled her under the armpit.

"You'll see…"He replied with a sly smile on his face. Katrina gave a pouting face that he won't tell her and he beamed at her. "Just be patient. It's just at the bottom of this hill." Then he eyed the terrain. It all looked too lose for his girl's dainty feet to touch. He offered his hand to her.

"Why, Roran. How sweet." She said as she placed her hand in his. It felt so right, them holding hand as they walked down the trail that beautiful spring morning. His hands were warm and covered in rough spots. They carved away at her dainty white hands. Though it hurt, but a pleasurable pain. Like the solid ache someone gets after long work on their true passion.

Roran swiveled his head, watching her to ensure she wouldn't fall. It wouldn't do for the birthday girl to fall. He looked into her eyes and couldn't help but thinking how lucky he was to have her. In the light, she stepped towards him with the look of that of an angel. Her head was framed in a halo of twilight. Her auburn locks flowed in the breeze ever so gently. They framed a face of sun burnt cheeks and rice paper skin. Freckles dappled across her nose, leading up to her icy blue eyes. He was so in love. So what if her father, even after all these year of sneaking off into the spine, of nights of burning passion and love, of tears and smiles, still did not condone, or even know about their relationship. She was so perfect for him; despite any flaws like her slightly blotchy, sun burnt skin or the dark blobby birth mark on her…

Suddenly Roran tumbled forward, pulling Katrina with him. They laughed as they rolled down the hill together, like two children playing leap frog. One would be on top, then the other, then one again. Soon they lost momentum as they reached the bottom of the hill. They rolled to a stop, Katrina on top. For a moment, they just sat there, laughing. Finally, noticing what lay next to him, Roran laughed out. "We're here. Now, close your eyes."

Katrina rolled off of him and did as she was instructed. Even though her eyes were closed, she still saw only Roran. She felt a slight tingle as warm hands touched hers. Sparks seemed to fly right off her hand in their connection. The hands gently opened hers and placed something in one, closing it tightly on the object.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Katrina asked anxiously.

"Not yet…" he answered. She heard the rip of a plant. Then a long, stick like item was place in her hand. "Okay. Open them."

She did so and was shocked to see what was in her hand. In one was the most beautiful flower she'd ever seen. Each of its petals were like a miniature rainbow, starting with white, and then flowing through the most vivid colors to black in the center. The core was a neon orange. In her other hand was something which made the flower look like something common. A wooden ring inlaid with a small sapphire stone. The wood was the finest cherry wood and the stone, though small, held the light like no other. It had an engraving. It said, "May this ring be a symbol of my love and that we shall wait for one another, even if death shall take us first. Happy twentieth, my love. RG&KS forever."

"It's a promise ring. I cannot marry yet, but when I can, I want it to be to you. Do you like it?" Roran asked, pulling out a matching ring with a ruby stone.

Katrina just stood there, mouth agape, eyes watering. Finally she flung her arms around him. He picked her up and spun her around lovingly. "I love you, Roran." Katrina said.

"Wear it always." Roran pleaded.

"I w-" Katrina started.

"Katrina?" There cam a voice yelling. It was the all to familiar voice of her father, calling her to do this or that. Katrina panicked.

"I have to go…now! I love you, but dad shall ask about the ring…well that or steal it. I cannot wear it."

Roran gave a despairing look, but Katrina lifted his chin gently. "When we leave, I shall wear it every day for the rest of my life." She vowed.

End flashback.

Remembering her promise, Katrina pulled out her ring, sliding it upon her index finger before continuing hauling Roran to the tent.

They traversed past the outer flowers; out of the shadow and into the sun. Katrina winced. She's spent so long in that dark room, her eyes hurt from the stinging brightness of the sun. She looked down so not to kill her eyes.

The path before her had about enough room on it to allow two people to walk comfortably side by side. It was a typical red brick path; nothing extraordinary about it. As they walked, the rough surface skimmed her dainty feet. But she wouldn't dare complain.

Soon a light blue, white, and black pavilion came into sight. On the tip, a dark blue dragon danced. It flew a red, blue, and black flag. Black stars danced around a ruby dragon with a blue background. It was Surda's national flag.

As they came upon it, the flap opened. Nasuada stood, looking at a man dressed in all black. He was cloaked from head to toe. No one could see past his hood and into his eyes. Nasuada appeared to be arguing with him. A scowl rested on her face and, doubtless even with his hood up, upon his as well. He noticed Eragon and, with one final sneer, tore off down the path.

Nasuada calmed her face as she noticed them. She smiled, not super successful but they couldn't blame her for trying. She was a mess. Part of her helm was torn and her hair was in up, tangled and loose unfortunately. Obviously from her arguments with the black stranger.

"Eragon, as you requested the gardens have been cleared and closed to everyone. That man included. Man did he give me hell bout it though… You, Roran, and Katrina may stay here as long as you wish."

"Thank you, milady. I really do need it."

"It's the least we could do for our savior." Eragon blushed a bit and nodded.

"Good day, Argetlam." She finished before curtsying and turning slowly to walk down the path towards the palace. As she moved, her hips swayed back and fourth. They seemed to say, "Don't mess with me."

Katrina and Eragon slipped into the tent. It had one double bed and single bed with blue trim. Eragon's bed no doubt. Katrina and Eragon laid Roran on the double bed. He sunk into it limply. Katrina lied beside him; holding his fire hot head in her arms.

Eragon sat there; watching his cousin, dismayed he couldn't do anymore. After an hour, he left for a little. Katrina barely noticed. One moment she looked up he was there, the next he was gone. She paid no mind. She just sat, stroking Roran's curly hair.

He returned with his arms full of the most beautiful flowers. He proceeded to lay them around the room; brightening this stained earth. Still, his eyes held fast to a look of worry.

Katrina didn't notice when sleep took her. She dreamed of the same thing she was doing last; holding fast to her dying fiancé. Only, in the dream, he rose. She started crying and he wiped away her tears.

She awoke to feeling hot skin next to hers. She moved to see Roran; still the same as he had been before the dream. She was dismayed it wasn't real. She drizzled some sugar water between his cracked lips.

She looked around. The room was bright. Everything was in place and nothing appeared to be missing. She thought too soon. One thing was missing; Eragon. Also there were some new things; new flowers, a plate of the best looking food ever, and a blue note. She, cramming some bread in her mouth, picked the note up.

It read:

_Dear Katrina, _

_I wanted to stay and help you through this. I'd never wanted to leave my cousin to his fate; but I must now consider my duties as a Dragon Rider. _

_We plan to get the egg soon. And I needed to see to some details. Tomorrow, at noon, I leave for Uru'baen. We must get the egg. _

_I'm…sorry. I love him too. And if he meets his fate today, I pray that Roran Gorrowsson may rest in peace. _

_Eragon Shadeslayer. _

Katrina looked at Roran. Every single time they thought it wasn't possible for him to get any worse without dying, he proved them wrong. He looked as white as paper and his skin was just as fragile. His head could burn as well as fire could. Today would be the day. The last day. They day that would decide it all. If he didn't get better today, he'd die for sure.

Katrina filled her day cleaning and freshening the room, caring for and looking after Roran, praying to what ever gods cared for them, and singing sad, sad songs. She found words on her lips which spoke of hoping when there was no hope, praying when no god would listen, crying when no one cared enough to dry your eyes. It was just as she felt.

She worked and worked till the sun had left and the moon was staring at her. Then, just before she fed Roran for the seven-teenth time that hopeless day, sleep stole her.


	19. A friend's gift

_Two blue eyes peered off in the distance. Mist chilled the morning air. Through it the eyes gazed. Their gaze finally rested on a lonely tombstone near the hill. The owner of them moved silently through a loud crowd towards the hill. There was laughter and smiles. Cheerful facelined the way._

_They saw people they knew and recognized; Eragon, Roran, Arya, Nasuada, all smiling and laughing. She was laughing with them. Many where dancing and happy. Arya kissed Eragon; Roran kissed her. _

"_Stay with us, stay here." They called. Yet Katrina kept on, pushing towards the grave._

_As she kept on towards the tombstone, laughter became less and less common. Smiles fell straight. Then what was once laughter turned into screaming; smiles and laughter into frowns and tears._

"_Help us!" She heard a woman scream out to her. _

_She saw blood across all elements; pocketing the sand. Polluting the water. Soaking the soil. Misting into the sky. She heard cruel laughter an turned to watched as an Urgal chased an innocent man to a corner. The man fell upon his knees, begging for mercy. With an evil grin, the creature grabbed a blood soaked pike and rend the mans terrifed head from his body. Blood squirted onto the Urgal's face as it gave a triumphant bellow. Heads were mounted on sticks. Bodies were mutilated. As she moved on, it only got worse. Yet, something drew her to keep walking._

_At first it had been just men; but now it was women and children as well. The old, the crippled, the young, the new. None were spared the pain. None were saved from an endless mess of death and destruction. Babies were murdered. Through the atrocities she saw, she pushed on._

_Over head, vultures, crows, ravens, eagles, and hawks all watched the scene with ravenous eyes. They landed on the dead bodies; ripping the meat from their stomachs, tearing at their necks and pulling out their eyes. They gave an exited squawk as more blood misted into the air. Disgust was written on her face, but she kept forward._

_As she neared the grave, everything grew still and silent. Nothing lived. Nothing grew. All was dead. A grey shroud of lifelessness covered the land. The soils were barron of bodies, of plants. Of everything typical. Soon she could read the name embedded on the gravestone. She gasped as she read aloud, "Here lies Roran Stronghammer Garrowsson. Rest in peace."_

_She backed away from it to bump into another. "Eragon Shadeslayer Morzansson." And another. "Princess Arya Svit-kona." Another. "Nasuada of the Varden." Soon more graves rested before her. _

_She screamed and ran up the hill. Before her was blood and gravestones far as the eyes could see. She slowly backed up. _

_Suddenly she fell into a large rectangular pit that was just her size. She turned to see at the head of the pit, there was another gravestone. It read, "Katrina of Carvahall. R.I.P." she screamed. Suddenly a giant blue dragon started throwing earth upon her; burying her alive. It laughed as she screamed, "No, No, No!"_

Katrina stirred and woke. She was in a warm bed. The soft covers clung to her and her fiancé's sweaty skin. She looked around her. _No gravestones. Whew_. She sighed. Eragon lay in the blue trimmed single bed; dreaming noiselessly.

The moon was half shining; but it shone super bright. Katrina, satisfied that they weren't all going to die that second, rested her head on her pillow. She closed her eyes to listen to what there was and fall asleep to the night's lullaby.

A soft snore rung through the room. It was obviously Eragon. She gave a smug smile. A bat screeched its way through the night; sending chills down her spine. The breeze picked up to a weak gust. There was a soft thud from a bats wings in the distance. And the clamber of horse hooves echoing through the night.

And…wait, those weren't horse hooves. And that wasn't a bat's wings either. A low grumble proved the sudden thought right. The flap to the tent opened. Katrina opened her eyes half way to be sure.

A scaly sapphire blue muzzle was sticking into the tent. It pushed forward; exposing a head; then a neck. The long lithe head looked like a snake; slithering forward towards Katrina's bed like a blue snake. The neck noiselessly passed over her and on to Roran. It climbed up his torso till it reached his forehead.

With a sympathetic whine, it extended its muzzle down and gently touched the center of his forehead. His skin rippled; like it was make of liquid. The dragon shut her heavy blue eyes hard. Then she focused. On her muzzle, a soft glow started. Fainter then the first peck of dawn; which actually was starting now. Then, as the sun rose, it grew whiter and more dazzling. Soon Katrina could barely keep her eyes open; let alone see the dragon or Roran. Finally, the light died down. But the dragon was gone.

Katrina, exhausted, went back to sleep. The last thing she heard was the loud thud of wings and Eragon's snores. 

She had no nightmares of hellish battles scenes; but no dreams of love or happiness either. Her brain was so thoroughly exhausted; it sent her jumbled scenes of nothing.

_A dry land. Suddenly, broken by a mountain towering above her; piercing the clouds and slicing the atmosphere. A river flowing at its base. It extended for maybe thirty feet then sunk into the sands. Above all, she heard a loud, mournful cry. Just before the scene disappeared, she saw a red and blue dragon fighting and a green dragon trying to break them up._

_Then there was fire in a massive forest. Men fighting in shadows. And a giant tree; burning. Nothing more of that scene._

_She saw a gravestone with a name she couldn't pronounce on it. Flowers rested at the base. Nearby, a roar thundered and a man in the shadows hid; tears drenching his clothes. She figured she knew him, somehow._

_Then she saw a man on a beach, crying as he watched a departing ship. In the sky off in the distance was a gold eagle and a blue bird. Then she saw nothing but blackness till she woke…_

Katrina woke to feeling the sun's warm rays bleeding through her thin lids. She allowed herself to bask in its eternal warmth. But no matter how she tried to warm herself, she still felt cold. Roran was probably dead. She could not feel his feverish warmth next to her. There was some stirring she knew was an exhausted Eragon.

She allowed tears to leak behind her closed lids. After all, her fiancé was dead or dying. A wave of jumbled emotion washed over her. She felt a deep love and compassion for Roran; she felt depressed and a bit sick to her stomach wondering if a corpse lay next to her. She felt great grief; she felt a undisputed rage and anger towards Saphira. She was happy she was no longer the Ra'zac's prisoner; and she felt guilty. If not for her, Roran would have never gotten hurt. He wouldn't have even gone to Helgrind.

Why did she have to be so stupid! She should have fought the Ra'zac more; she should have been up in the Spine. There she would have been safe. There, if she had only bothered being there, she wouldn't have been captured by the Ra'zac.

She reached out to hold Roran's hand, dead or not. Her hands, after searching for a long moment, found an ice-like. It was so different then last time. She became confused and opened her eyes.

She took a moment, blinking back the light. Then she turned towards her fiancé. He lay, peacefully. But as she watched, she found he was not breathing. Panicked, she flung up to a sitting position. She opened is eyes. They were dilated.

"Please baby. Don't do this." She said, having trouble keeping from crying. She felt for a pulse. There wasn't even a lonely beat. Now in hysterics, Katrina desperately tried to revive him but to no avail.

Cradling his head in her lap, she cried out. She held his head up to her ear, wishing to whisper the words she had been wondering about since she started feeling so dizzy. But she held them in. "Please don't die, Roran."

But it was no use. Roran Stronghammer Garrowsson, was dead. Feeling exhausted suddenly, Katrina fell forward onto the bed, unsure of what to do now. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Soon she fell into a wakeful douse.


	20. Adue, my fair maiden

In a state of misery and sorrow Katrina slowly woke. She gazed down at the soft, tearstained bed. Her head was spinning and her eyes hurt. Slowly she roused up, realizing she'd need to tell others.

Eragon had been gone at the time when she'd made the terrible discovery. Now he lay across from her. She heaved a great sigh as she realized how much stress he'd been in. And now this…it wouldn't be too good. But it was only right that he should know…

"Eragon, wake up. I have something terribly important to talk with you about." Eragon slowly roused to her voice.

"Is he?" He asked, raising his head from the pillow.

"Yes." She answered solemnly. Without another word, Eragon dove his head back into the pillow and cried hard. Katrina stroked his hair, she herself crying silent tears. They both just sat for a long moment and cried together in silent solemn sadness.

Katrina finally turned to look at the bed where her fiancé's body lay. But it was gone… All that remained was a small puddle of throw up. She gave a puzzled and frustrated sigh when she looked but couldn't find him anywhere on that bed. She must have pushed him off the bed in the night, she told herself. She walked over and searched every crease and crevice on the bed. From the opposite bed, Eragon watched her with a worried expression on his face. He wasn't there. Or there. Or even there!

She grew worried. Maybe they were preparing him for burial. Her eyes grew wide with worry when she remembered that Eragon was still in bed. They won't take his body with out telling one of them, would they?

She suddenly stopped. A breeze chilled the air in the pavilion as the cotton door swung open. Light poured in; silhouetting the man in the door, turning him into that of an angel. She squinted to get a better look at him.

She could feel a pair of eyes on her; watching her every move. Her heart skipped a beat. She stared back to find herself in the gaze of two brown eyes. Two eyes have never been more beautiful; or more frightening.

There, staring at her, ragged in the entrance of the Dragon Rider's pavilion in the gardens of Aberon, the capital of Surda, bordering Alagaesia, stood Roran.

Katrina found herself in a state too shocked to scream. In fact, she couldn't say a word. She tried to walk forward, but her legs felt like frozen flowers and wobbly as a new born gazelle's. She felt like crying and laughing and keeping a straight face all at the same time. But instead, she just stood there, staring. Eragon seemed equally shocked.

How could he be alive? He was dead! She faintly remembered something. Something miraculous. But her head was too fuzzy to know what it was.

He moved towards her, a great beaming smile on his face. He grabbed her, tears streaming down his face. How she'd missed his sweet embrace. She buried herself into his warm, sour, musky body. In his arms she found more tears. She never wanted to leave his arms again.

Yet all great things must come to an end and they finally did when he let her go. "I love you." He whispered in her ear.

"Roran, you had me so worried. You almost died. Never do that again. I could never love another. Yet I could not raise our child alone. I would have to marry. And…." She started in hysterics.

"Whoa, wait, _our child_?"

"Roran, I think I'm pregnant." Roran beamed, his tongue tied. Eragon, who had finally regained motion, lost it again. His jaw was dropped so far, his lip was almost literally on the floor. Katrina simply shuffled her feet and blushed a bit, her secret finally out.

"How long have you known?" Roran finally asked.

"About three days. I started to wonder when we got to Aberon, but there were too many other things to worry about. I didn't want to add another."

"Congratulations." Eragon managed to spit out, his lip still on the floor, before falling over on his bed in shock.

A shadow crept into the barn. From within the confines of a very cave-like stall, there came a weak, soft, welcoming snarl. From inside the stall, Saphira raised her head as her rider approached. She yawned, licking her chomps submissively. She felt his mind reach out to hers long before she could see or smell him. In it, she could sense the presence of a new hatchling, though he hid that look from his outer self. But she knew exactly why…

_Saphira! Roran's…_

_I know…_

_How? I felt you asleep before now. How could you possibly know unless….Saphira, what did you do?_

Saphira heaved a sigh. _I admit it. Roran would not be still alive if I had not acted. Last night, I practiced a technique I learned from a dear friend of mine many nights ago. It was terribly hard, but I was able to do it. It can allow me to direct my magic. Then I went to that tent and I performed a spell which would freeze him till I let the spell drop… _

_And that stopped the bleeding and gave his body time to seal it off._ Eragon finished, amazed at how smart Saphira had been. She nodded and gave a weak snort.

_I now know what you must do to keep those spells up. They really sap your strength. I cannot tell you how exhausted I am._ Eragon noted for the first time how fast she was breathing.

He put is hand on her flank and padded it lightly. _You did good, Saphira. You did good. But, you know, I would like to know who this friend is. I know you met him while you were alone._

_Her you mean. _Saphira snorted. She gave him a big toothy grin. She looked it his mind silently and discovered he was exited about something else as well. _I cannot tell you…don't you have something else you want to add?_

_How could I have forgotten! You know how Katrina has been so moody? Well, she pregnant! And I got to tell her who's responsible for saving the father of her child. See you Saphira._

Before Eragon could even take a step, Saphira swept her tail at him, throwing him off his feet. He tried to get up, but Saphira's tail held him down.

_What are you doing?_

_No._ She said firmly._ You shall not tell her. She'd think I was trying to kill him secretly or something. The girl has no common sense._

Eragon bit his lip. She was probably right. But Katrina should know… Eragon took a long moment then said out loud, "Fine."

_Olta oathkla on. Oathkla on, Argetlam. (Then swear it. Swear it, Silver hand.)_ Saphira snarled, revering to the tongue of the ancients. _Oathkla uno halloon uka lilte ehr.(Swear you shall not tell her.)_

Eragon sighed. _Eka halloon uka tiotei lilte ehr. Tulb uno halloon.(I shall not to tell her. But you should.) Is that good enough for you?_

Saphira glared at him for a long moment. Then she lifted her tail, saying, _I am content._

_Good. Be ready. In about an hour and a half, I'll come back down with Roran. Then we need to get going. _And with that, he left. This time, Saphira made no motion to stop him.

Two sets of eyes looked into one another, seeing each other's very souls. Every deed lay bare. Every sin forgiven. They both knew what they forever would miss were they to loose one another.

Hand in hand, the two walked through the gardens. Her eyes looking to her stomach and then to Roran and gave a soft giggle. Roran looked at her and then her stomach and smiled.

He took a deep breath, sighing when he reflected on how just a day before he had been barely breathing to the point of being seen as dead this morning to his fiancé. She had asked him several times how it was possible he was alive and he'd answered that all good things in life remain secrets, but in truth, that meant even he himself didn't know.

"Roran?" Katrina said softly, barely audible.

"Yes, my love?" Roran whispered back.

"When this war starts, promise me you won't fight." Her eyes beckoned him to hear her.

"That I cannot do. I must defend our freedom. I will not see our child enter a world in such a state." Roran answered.

"Why! You have no idea how hard it was. To sit there and watch you die. To realize your child may never know more of a father then a grave stone. I will not stand for it. Not when there are dozens of other men willing to fight. Come away with me. We can leave Alagaesia and only return once the men have beaten Galbatorix." She said, tears spilling out her eyes.

"Katrina, love, you are being rash. Do you not think the other men have wives? Or children? They go for the same reasons I do. To let their children know Alagaesia as the beautiful land it once was. I cannot stand by while the Empire grows ever closer to planning our demise."

Katrina fell into his arms, sobbing loudly. "I just don't want to see you dead, my love. I am sorry. I was selfish."

"You have right to be. As the fight is closer then you think." Roran answered while looking at the blazing sun, set in the middle of the sky.

Katrina glared up at him, "What do you mean?"

"Eragon has planned a secret mission I am to accompany him on. It leaves at noon. So, I am afraid this is goodbye, my love. Till I hold you in my arms again, I bid you adue, my fair maiden. Take care of our child." He said, poking her lightly in the stomach. She giggled and watched as he ran out of the gardens, leaving her to stand and wait. He ran swiftly down the corridor, but a voice saw him.

"Good to see you still breathing, Stronghammer." Roran turned to see Nasuada moving towards him.

"Great to see you again too, milady." Roran replied, bowing deeply to the Varden's leader. Then he added, "Have you seen my cousin?"

"Yes, he is currently in the conference room, adding the final details to the elders. I do not think they approve of the plan, but then, Eragon is not theirs to command. I am confident they shall see it our way." She smiled, and then added, "Follow me."

So Roran did and in no time was standing at the doorway. As Nasuada slowly opened the door, he gave a quick look around. There were many maps and charts on the walls. A board of several elderly looking people sat in chairs forming a semi-circle around a tall podium. At it stood Eragon. And, of course, right behind him, Saphira. Presently, he held a long wooden pointer directed at a chart on the wall. It looked like the map of the black palace of Kurmoshkow. One space, highlighted in a neon orange, was labeled target and Eragon's pointer was held firm to it.

"Now, an inside source who once worked at the palace, reported that the egg if kept in a vault in here. It's not more then two corridors or four hundred feet from here." He traced the path to an area highlighted in yellow with the word, start, in the center.

"So here's the game. We wait till the moment is just right. Saphira and Stronghammer, my cousin, shall wait in the court yard, taking care of anyone who sees us." Then, Eragon pulled out an elaborate costume. There were a few skin colored attachments, a black cloak, and a few vague items. He fixed it on, uttering a few magic words to keep the hood in place.

"In this, I shall impetrate the fortress and be as the red rider. I shall even have a red dragon." He said. He muttered another inaudible word and, with the, Saphira turned a slightly bluish red. "As you can see, I cannot hide everything. But by the time guard realize what hit them, they won't exactly be able to do anything."

"I still object!" said an elderly woman towards the middle.

Spotting Roran, Eragon started up again. "We go with or without this council's support. I merely wish to inform the Varden. This meeting is over. All our party is ready to go. And besides, Stronghammer's pregnant fiancé shall worm her way into coming if we do not leave soon." A chorus of chuckles ran through the group. No one argued though.

The council began to file out. Roran started to follow, but as soon as he got out, he felt a sharp tug on the back of his shirt, pushing him off balance. The hand yanked him to a secluded corner, where Roran turned to face a cloaked Eragon.

"Two things, Roran, before we go. One, you've seen my…" he saw and elder close be and did not continue. Roran nodded, knowing who he meant. "Well, does this look like him?" Eragon ripped off his hood to reveal almost exactly Murtagh. He was shorter and a bit pudgier looking. Anyone who personally knew then would see the difference, but still, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Yes."

"Good." He said, pulling his hood back up. "Now the second thing is, I thought you should know why you are still here." Eragon explained with the occasional confused comment from Roran. Roran was so happy to hear that it was Saphira, not Eragon, who save him.

"Why?"

"Because it could end the feud between her and Katrina. Have you told Katrina yet?"

"No, Saphira forbade me from it. She think Katrina will take it the wrong way."

"What? I know her. She may be rash, but she is not that evil."

"That's what I told Saphira."

"Well, she didn't forbid me, did she."

"No."

"I'm going to go tell her."

"Not now. Wait till we return."

_We must go, now. Before the light fades…_


	21. Inside enemy walls

Eragon's goose bumps grew as the palace appeared on the horizon, slumped like a giant monster. The city looked as any other, with ugly parts and marvelous parts. The only problem was that everything was dramatized. Sculptures and gardens grew like they had spent life times to be started. Not a detail on the sculptures was worn or false or course. Not a flower lay out of place in the gardens, nor were they anything but the perfect colors. These items had lots of pressure to stay perfect, lest they end up like the bad end of town. It was obvious were the good end ended and the bad one began. Problems of every short covered the lands. From sewage problems to fires left to burn, to famine. Eragon winced as he heard cries of hunger, screams of danger, screeches of death. Unfortunately there was more on the bad end then any other city Eragon had seen yet.

So far, all was perfect with the plan though. The clouds covered in front of the pale moon, hiding its little light. The spells cast were working perfectly. And the court yard was full of people…wait, oh no. Eragon began to panic. He could hear screamed of protest, something was up. For one long moment, everyone held their breath. There was no way they could kill that many people without someone triggering the alarm.

He sighed with relief though, as the crowd poured into the palace. _All the less chance of being found out. _Eragon realized. Saphira landed into the court yard to faint echoes of protest. Soon all was quiet again. The black palace shimmered in the moonlight, sending shivers down Eragon's spine. But that did not distract him from his goal…

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_A scream in the night. The flap of velvet wings. A bright meteor lighting up the sky…_Suddenly green eyes flashed open. Something was wrong. She heard a loud pound on her door and shot up, bronze hair flipping as she did. Outside her room, she could hear them. Her father had been right. They'd come for her. They hadn't cared when she was but a babe, but now that she didn't look it, they hated having an elf in their midst. She looked nearly fifteen, though her true age was far younger. More like a few months then years.

Despite her beauty, she was not the best example of an elf. She was more of a fair human then an elf. Her forehead was broader and her eyes, a deeper green like an evergreen forest rather then the typical sparkling emerald. She'd been taught by her father how to fight so, if need be, she may defend herself, but her reflexes would shame her race. It was also said that all elves could use magic, though she could not yet.

"Go back to the forest, you tree huggn' bastard, or this'll be the last thing you'll hear." A ragged man's voice yelled through the night.

"You don't belong here, cone-ear." A woman's voice screeched. She remembered what her father had told her to do if she was in her room when it happened.

She began slipping the last few things into her bag, already budging with numerous things, most of which her father had packed. There were seven pockets, one of which her father had been very mysterious about. "Only open it when the time is right." Was all he said. She wanted to know what it was so badly, for it took up a lot of space, but her father had gave her strict orders not to open it.

Finished with her packing, she buttoned the sections up. As she slung her pack over her shoulder, she whirled around to see what she could hear. _Boom, boom, boom._ The door shuddered like it too was fearful. With each rhythmic boom, fear struck through her heart like a rouge lightning bolt. _Boom, boom, boom_. It grew louder, more forceful.

She turned to face the wall. Her eyes searched for a way out. They saw a small piece of wood, jutting up slightly. She smiled as her dainty hand reached up for it slowly. She gently put her hand on it, feel its coolness. No turning back now, she, with a soft grunt, pushed it in. The wall gave a soft shiver, and then slowly pushed in. The door had lead to a dark, long, narrow crevice. She silently squeezed in and shut the door behind her. For a moment, all she could hear was the soft drip of water droplets falling from the ceiling where a series of pipes fed water to the rooms of the palace.

Suddenly, she heard a huge bang and a bunch of cheers._ They broke in…_ she realized. She sunk towards the back of the crevice, hiding in the dark. She heard some shuffling, angry sneers, more shuffling, crashing, ripping, a short crackle of fire. Tears began to fall from her eye. She leaned back against the wall for support.

"Search for secret doors." There came the muffled voice of a man. She could almost feel there knifes, burning fiery holes in her skin. Her hands shifted around the wall, as if they could find some sort of an exit.

Suddenly there came the noise of a wall moving. She tried to steady herself, but failed. Light poured through her green eyes as she fell backwards into a beautiful room. There was a silver alter in the center, with words of peace and love in the ancient language. The light was a vivid green color, turning the alter almost a greenish shade. There was a place to put something, but it was empty. Not even a piece of dust of what was once there.

She sat in this beautiful room, and cried hard. Her tears began to cover the floor. She cried till there were no tears left in her and her face was red and sticky and her head hurt. Then, she, shivering slightly, listened. In the hall, she could hear the mob. She looked to the wall, pushed in an emerald, and the door swung forward. Listening first to be sure they were really gone, she reentered her room.

What she saw was truly gruesome. Her bed was torn and burnt. Blood smudged on anything she left behind. A farth that her dad had made of her was destroyed, the white rock broken into dust. And an old teddy bear she had neglected to bring for its size was ripped in half. She picked up her old teddy and cradled it in her arms for a moment.

Seeing there nothing was left, she went back through the trap door and made her way to the silver room any cried. Little had she known that this was a new beginning, not the end.

**Hey, sorry I haven't updated it a while. But check out my mega update. I have six stories w/ new chappies! Well, please tell me what cha think on this new chapy. Remember, Eragon is not mine. And these are only predictions of what may happen.**


	22. A hard chioce

_Darkness shrouded most of the room where she lay. She could faintly hear heavy footsteps. Then a firm hand rested her shoulder. The grip was strong, but not painful. It gave a light squeeze as she finish waking up. Flinching slightly, she turned and smiled at who she saw._

"_Daddy." She said, almost falling into his arms. He held her head against his chest, stroking her bronze hair nervously, "What's wrong?" She pushed away to look him in the eye._

"_Sweetheart, you know how much I love you, but you must leave…" he answered solemnly. There was a sad, serious look in his eyes._

"_Why?" she asked, almost breaking into tears._

"_You know well why." He gave a silent gesture to her ears. In response, she reached up to them, feeling their pointed ends._

"_Why does that matter? Why am I any different then you? Your ears are pointed too!" she exclaimed as hysteria began to take her._

"_Sweetheart," He answered, trying to keep a clam tone. "your ears and my ears are pointed for totally different reasons…"_

"_What are you saying?" her tone getting louder and more violent with every word. "Are you not the man who raised me? Are you not my father?" she looked at him in shear anger._

_Murtagh was silent. He bit his lower lip hard under her stare._

"_It can't be true!" She screamed at him. Tears fell she her eyes as continued. "You are my father, right?"_

"_I'm afraid, my dearest Aiedail, the answer is nay. I may have raised you, but you hail from the forest of the elves." In that moment of the sour revelation, her whole world fell apart. It was like all she had ever known, all she had ever been, had just been swept away, like worthless manure. She felt as though she had just been carried out to a sea of questions instead of the shallow pool she had once waded in. And in that moment, all she wanted to do and all she did, was cry. And all he wanted to do and all he did was hold her close. _

"_It'll be alright, my morning star." He said calmly, his own tears merging with hers._

"_No, it won't. How can you even say that? You lied to me, about everything! Tell me the truth! Who are my parents!" she replied._

"_Okay, Aiedail. I know not of whom your real parents are. I found you on the back of that of a green wyvern in Du Weldenvarden many a month ago. Yes, you are different. An elf, in fact. No, not everyone has dragon. There are only four left in fact: Thorn is mine, Shruikan is Galbatorix's, one is not hatched, and the final you've never seen. She is a sapphire blue and belongs to my brother. Yes, I am forced to serve Galbatorix. Yes, we are at war. No, we are not on the right side. I cannot be. But you, my morning star, you can be. It is not safe here any more for you I am afraid. But you can leave."_

"_Where would I go? What would I do?" she asked, perplexed at all his revelations._

"_Go to Surda. Go to the Beors. Go to Du Weldenvarden. Anywhere but here. For you shalt be accepted better at anyone of these places, I expect…"He answered, tears welding up in his eyes. As they fell, the melded with hers. For a moment, the only sound was the sobs of the two. Finally, she welded up some courage to speak._

"_But I can't leave you. Will I ever see you again?" she whispered softly._

"_Aiedail, my sweet Aiedail. Part of me hopes the answer is nay, and part of me is still hoping yes. If I do, I shall hope it shall be under the right circumstances." He said gently_

"_Father, I will not go." She said defiantly as two tears fell from her eyes._

_There came a rustle in the hall and indiscernible shouts. "I must go. Know then, my little one, this may be regardless the last I see you. For they are coming." His eyes wandered frantically to the door._

"_Who?" she asked._

_But instead of a straight answer, all she got was, " They cared not when you were younger. But now, they are enraged." Glancing back, he said, "I must go." He turned to leave, but looked back one, last, desperatle time and vowed, "__ Eka ulonw opiuts ono ianga." _

_As the door shut, she cried, "I love you." And with that, without a reply, he left, leaving her confused and alone in the dark._

As she finished remembering what had taken place only shortly before the attack on her room, she wished she could forget. Forget the thousands of times she called him father. Forget all the "I love yous" exchanged between the two. Forget all she had known and start a new. Or at least forget she was an elf. Then maybe, just maybe, it would all be fine.

She tried desperately, but no matter how she tried, she was still in the same old dank room and still hated and mobbed by humans. She still didn't know who she truly was. And most importantly, she still did not have a family.

Suddenly, there came a soft knock. She turned to go back through the passage, but she did so too late. Before she could slip into the dank passage, the door opened, flooding the once dark room with the fresh, silver light of the moon. A long shadow appeared. With its face shadowed, she could not make out who, or what, owned the giant shadow. The made it rather menacing to the scared Elven girl. She moved and it obviously saw her.

With no chance of escape, she gathered up her courage and turned and moved to the center of the room to face her opponent. Surprisingly, there was only one. Her features were highlighted.

Puzzled, the figure moved slowly towards her, features still shadowed. As her eyes began to adjust, she could make out some of its, no his, features. His skin was a dark, tanned brown and he dawned a black robe. Everything about him screamed he didn't want to be noticed. Then he took another few strides and set her into shock.

Standing in front of her, in the dark, rich room connecting to a guest room in the black palace of Kurmoshkow in the center of Uru'baen in the center of Alagaesia, stood Murtagh.


	23. Sound the alarms!

As he opened the door, he saw a flicker of movement and froze. Was someone…or something in there? He heard a deep sigh and saw more movement towards a golden alter he'd seen once before. That did not shock him. What did was who came out of the shadows and into the unearthly light which hung around alter.

What he saw was a young woman. She looked fifteen, maybe sixteen. Slung on her shoulder was a large pack. She was fairly short for her age; but it was obvious by the look in her eyes that she wasn't too young. A bronze curtain crashed down her shoulders. Her ears were pointed. She was fair; but not as he expected of that of her race. She was nothing special. But one thing that was was her eyes. They pieced through him like emerald arrows; breaking his very soul. He knew he had seen them before, but he could put his finger on it.

He moved to her; knowing an elf would not rat him out. On the contrary, she'd be glad he was there. His only hope was that she hadn't given the location of Ellesmera, or any other Elven cities for that matter, to Galbatorix yet.

But as he approached her, her expression dramatically changed. Where as before she had a fearless expression on her face, like she was ready to face whatever came through the doors, now her expression shifted. First, she looked rather shocked, then she set in to a rather cold, cruel glare; her fists clenched so tightly, he thought for sure she'd start to bleed. He silently cursed to himself, realizing she thought he was Murtagh, come to torture information out of her or something. He quickly prepared his magic to change him back.

But then, the strangest thing happened. She unclenched her fists, tears shedding as she did, and fell into his arms. He wondered if he had let go of the spell unknowingly and made her realize who he was.

"You came for me." She said softly as she sobbed in his arms. He held her for a moment, knowing now that this trip would not be in vain. They had now saved an elf and perhaps stopped Galbatorix from learning the location of the Elven cites.

"Please, can you tell me where it is?" He asked, looking her in her puffy, lazar eyes. She gave him a quizzical look and he swore violently in his head. It wasn't in here! He couldn't just simply look in every gods' damn room in the whole black palace for it. He did not have the time. He grabbed the elf's hand and promptly exited the room.

Looking down the corridor, he searched for a room that looked of some significance. And one, in particular, caught his eye. It had a coat of arms made of Elven blades above the door. He knew it won't have the main reason he was there, but he did need a new sword, and this looked like the most promising place to go.

As he opened the door to the room, a grin obscured his face. In this room lie mountain upon mountain of evenly stacked Elven blades. Every color in the rainbow was there; from pure whites, to shimmering golds, to rich browns, to fiery oranges, powerful yellows and vengeful reds. Strong purples, beautiful blues, lively greens, midnight blacks, lunar silvers and calm greys were also present. It awed him to think of what all the different dragons looked like.

Every style of blade as well; from elegant long swords, to dangerous hefty cleavers, to sharp short stabbers, to heavy broad swords. One, a radiant silvery white one engraved Wyrda, seemed to even be able to switch styles. All seemed like the god version of whatever the blade was; able to move swifter, stay sharper, and amaze more.

And while he felt it wrong to steal such a blade that was not his but a rider of old's, he knew the rider would much rather have him wield it then Galbatorix. And he had no sword of his own…It was just too tempting.

In the center of the room, on a similar array as Thorn's egg had been so long ago, lay two swords; a deep blue long sword that would match Saphira's scales almost flawlessly though it was a shade lighter and a strange shorter green sword which was built for speed he supposed was a close match to that of the third egg.

He let go of the girl in awe, whom simply stood their, shocked at all the colors and awe-stuck at their build. Even she could see it was near perfect. Dangerously near. He moved to the alter and observed the sword with his eyes. But he felt they were unworthy of such a sight. They were perfect, unscratched, sharp as a dragon tooth, untarnished, even by time. They seemed so holy, despite all the dust around them, not even a speck rested on the blade, handle, or sheath. The blue one was called Adurna, or water, and the green one, Dre'gui, or broke heart. The blue one seemed to glow as he leaned over it.

Slowly his hand fell upon it, savoring its cool touch as he lifted its hilt. He could almost feel a jolt, like it was right. Like he was meant to forever hold that sword. He found it fit perfectly in his hand. A golden sapphire rested in its handle. He saw his reflection in it, clear as he saw the sky. But he also saw something else. A sort of green shimmer.

He turned and smiled at the elf, who stood less then a foot away. She too could not resist the call of the blade. He suddenly had an alarming thought. He observed her hands and found his thought had no grounds. He once again returned to smiling at her.

Like an impulse or some strange destiny, Aiedail found her hands on the green blade. He didn't stop her; for it looked only too natural for her to hold it. It alarmed her to not even have realized what she had been doing until it was rolling around in her hands. It fit like a dream, as if she had had it custom made for her and her alone. With a flick of her fist, she found it going faster then her unaware hand.

This mistake resulted in a cut across her palm. He looked at her with concern, but said nothing. She sucked on it to stop the bleeding. It amazed her that she hadn't felt it till then as a terrible wave of stinging pain ensnared her senses.

But before they did too much more, the unexpected shattered the night. The roar of a dragon and the coarse, raw-throated war cry of his cousin. They'd obviously been discovered! He swore aloud as the sword fell to the ground. He checked himself for injury; upon finding none, he quickly picked up Adurna and sheathed it, motioning for the same to be done with Dre'gui as he began to take off. She complied and soon followed. She tied Dre'gui to her belt, completely forgetting about her open cut as she ran.

He heard a shout from behind and saw that same group of people from earlier. He knew they'd be after them in a heart beat, but he couldn't just leave her and she could not run as fast as him for a strange reason. She slowly began slipping behind. With his concentration sapped, without even realizing it, he dropped the spell again. But it didn't matter any more…

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As they raced along, she began to wonder why they were running; till she heard another hoarse shout and saw behind them a flicker of tourch light illuminating a mob of people obviously after her! They held a terrible glee in their eys as they pursed them in the bloody light their torches gave off.

One shouted of a familiar voice, "Don't let her get away!" She realized with a jump that these were the exact same people who touched her room earlier. She pictured it, from the charred walls to her burnt bed with a shiver running down her spine. She shuttered to think if they were able to do that to her room, what were they capable of doing to her? This fearful thought plus the safety she felt with Murtagh beside her and the need to be with him filled her drive to run faster then she ever had in her whole life. The black tiles of Kurmoshkow fled beneath her, and she soon could only see the quickly moving shadows of their pursers. Suddenly she realized they were in the court yard.

What they saw was truly a sight to behold. Thorn's tail hit a mass of soldiers as they came, crushing them instantly. He bellowed deeply and blew out a long, steady torrent of flame from inside of him. As his flam subsided, more men threatened him from the back. He gave a puff of smoke, showing he was willing to do it again; but spotted Murtagh and thought differently. Instead, he simply growled and turned to fight the other soldiers, pretending he had not seen them. He lay in wait as the men approached. He gave an angry roar as a soldier attempted to spear him in the side and trashed his shadowy claws at him, impaling him on the lance. On his back, a strange man fought a soldier right above his head. His eyes were big and pale and gave him a haunted look. Brown hair swished as he fought the man. There was something a little off about Thorn, but she paid no heed to it.

Murtagh raced to his dragon's side, zealously guarding his flank. One soldier with a broad sword made a rush at him. He spied him and swung Adurna at him. The blades crashed together, sending sparks into the air as the pair clashed. Then Adurna found his enemies' neck and it was over only for another two to rush to his side under the cover of the spray of blood.

But she had no time to watch that second clash, for she had not until now seen the men circling _her_. She barely had the time to draw Dre'gui before they were upon her. Clumsy with her sword despite its lightness, she swung it as if it were a club; foolishly blundering around with the beautiful blade. The soldiers had no trouble dodging her and she found she self being toyed with; with the likeness of how a cat toys wit a mouse before swallowing it down whole. She gave another feeble attempt at defending herself as a blade came down upon her; the wielding soldier had a terrible gleam in his eyes. He smiled mechanically as he brushed her blade aside; as if it was no more them a stick wielded by a child. The blow sent her sprawling on the floor. The toying was over. She slammed her eyes shut, preparing for the sting of the first bite and wondering if there really was a place people went when they died.

But the blow never came. Instead a terrible cry pieced the night. She slowly opened her eyes to see the soldier with a red-tipped blue blade lodged in his gut. Slowly it slid out and the man toppled to the ground. But she paid no mind to the man making rivers of blood next to her; for still in front of her was that of an angel. The moonlight hit his creamy skin in such a way that it shone brighter then the thing itself. A breeze drifted through his bronze hair; drying the beads of sweat on his forehead and leaving it shinier then it had previously been. His ears were perfectly pointed; his face angled and clear as day. His molten bronze eyes melted her heart as he reached down to her; giving her a hand up. She could sparsely believe the hands which could kill that man could also be so gentle with her.

And like that, he left. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the sweat bead up on her forehead. When she opened her eyes again, she couldn't believe her eyes.

The other man had jumped out of the saddle and the angel shouted "Roran! Cover the left! You get in the saddle. We'll handle this!" The other man, Roran apparently, obeyed on a dime and unsheathed a brutal-looking hammer. She, not wanting to displease such a man, nodded and sheathed Dre'gui. But it was a task getting to Thorn, as he was still fighting and paid no head to the approaching elf. His tail was wild and it just barely missed her head.

"Get in the saddle now!" He yelled frantically he noticed the mob, glaring cruelty at them. From everywhere, suddenly, more guards appeared, most not the drunk guys they had expected but sober, keen-eyed men who took one look at the dragon and glared at the group.

"We can't win this." She heard him murmur. "We must leave." He added as a line of archers appeared on the roof.

"Uh-huh." Aiedail and Roran agreed. As they clambered on Thorn, Aiedail shrieked. "What about Bronco?" She gestured to the stables; knowing she probably would never see her childhood pet again if they left him here now. Thorn began to take off; hoping to get away from the arrows.

"There's no time!" He answered as a symphony of tangs filled the air. Two seconds later there came the first ping off Thorn's tough side scales. He roared loudly as the skin underneath bruised. His wings were next. Several arrows ripped holes in the thin membrane. She looked up and realized finally what was so different about him. His wing membranes were not red as usual, but a deep blue; much like the color of Adurna. Her final talk with Murtagh put the remaining pieces together.

"_No, it won't. How can you even say that? You lied to me, about everything! Tell me the truth! Who are my parents!_" She had shouted.

And part of his answer had been, "_No, not everyone has dragon. There are only four left in fact: Thorn is mine, Shruikan is Galbatorix's, one is not hatched, and the final you've never seen. She is a sapphire blue and belongs to my brother._" In that moment, she almost jumped off the dragon. This wasn't Thorn at all. This was… what was her name? Had he even said? And if this was her, then that meant one of these two men was Murtagh's brother. She looked back over their sweat-beaded brows. She was almost sure the one she was unsure of's name was him.

She knew now wasn't the best of times, so she held her tongue. At least she'd be safe from the mob…

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**Once again, don't get to used to the whole, "Aiedail likes Eragon" thing cause it's only going to be a one sided love. And eventually her little crush on him will wear off, but not before he'll use her to try and make Arya jealous. They'll be a major twist you're going to love. Note: notice how many faults she had. That'll stop the curse of the Marry Sue, atleast for now…**


	24. A powerful mind

As they soared above even small traces of mist belonging to night blackened clouds, the black city merely a dot on the horizon, Eragon turned to their new passenger. He was getting tired, for their venture had gone well passed midnight and early into the next day. But still, there were some fundamental this he had yet to learn about their Elven friend. And there were many things she did not know about them yet.

He sighed, finally deciding he'd have to start; for now, she simply stared at his with an odd combination of shock and disbelief. "I guess we really need to know a bit about each other before we can call it a night. After all, I don't know about you, but I find it hard to camp with someone I really don't know a thing about…"

"…I guess so…" she answered in a soft tone, the soft winds of the deep night almost completely stole her words. Her face contorted for a moment with countless emotions. Fear, confusion, anger, hatred, betrayal, even love. Then it went into an unreadable, distant gaze.

Wondering if she was really listening, he stated. "Well, I guess I'll start. I am called Eragon Shadeslayer. My dragon's name is Saphira Brightscales and this…" he pointed to Roran, who sat up at the mention of his name, "numbskull is my cousin Roran Stronghammer, Garrow's son." With that, he got a light sock in the arm. He grinned; it had not pained him at all obviously. "Don't worry. He's completely harmless…most of the time."

"Except if you hurt Katrina." Roran added. Eragon agreed lightly.

"What can we call you?" Eragon asked as nicely as at the moment possible.

"Aiedail." She answered quietly, looking down at her feet.

"Got a last name to that?" Roran asked in sheer curiosity.

"I…don't know. I don't even know if it really is my name. But it's the only one I have…" As she spoke, her hands fell to a small gold locket in the shape of a six pointed star. As her fingers shifted the cold metal by moonlight, it shone off light of the stars, forming a goldish light around her fingers. Eragon and Roran waited with quizzical eyes for her to explain, but no answer came. Instead, all she did was take off her bag, put it off to the shadowy part of Saphira's saddle, and look off to the distance, as if waiting for something or someone. A soft, small tear streaked down her face, leaving a glazed stripe all the way down her face like slick ice. It landed on the locket, the fell from there to the earth below.

The manner which she acted reminded him of someone he knew, though he couldn't put a finger on it. Then came a small moment where a wave of nausea over took his body as he found the answer. The way she said things, the emotionless face, even the way she fingered her locks of soft, brown hair…they reminded him of…

Murtagh.

Eragon relayed this thought to Saphira. She didn't seem to have any answers, keeping to her own conceal behind the walls of her own mind.

Not even Saphira dared as to as Aiedail what she was crying about. Each man was far too caught up in his or her own thoughts about it. The silence that ensued was far too indestructible even if she wanted them to know. Countless time went by with no more then the whips of night wind, the ache of a body unused to dragonback travels, and tension which could be cut by a knife and useable against even dragon scales.

Suddenly, Eragon realized they were slowly drifting down towards a forest clearing. He gave a concerned look to Saphira, the dragon in question's eyelids were drooping. And he could not blame her. She had shown an awesome performance in the battle. She deserved the rest. As they landed, they could feel the forest waking at the presence of the blue dragon. But that was not what concerned them.

The moon lit scene was a sight to be seen. The area was clear, with long grass tall enough for Saphira to disappear into. Nearby, a stream that fed off the Ramr River babbled softly. There was a corpse of trees only a sort distance away. One or two trees grew closer. Dew clung to the grasses, making them all wet fast.

Drowsily, somehow Eragon and Roran managed to set up camp. Aiedail simply crawled next to the nearest tree, laid down her pack, took some items out and used it as a pillow. The elf fell down to no more rise after that.

Eragon was too tired to unsaddle Saphira, who was already nearly asleep anyway. So, instead, he simply gathered their food and hung it from a nearby young oak to protect it from animals in the night. He, then, carefully as not to wake her rolled his sleeping roll out next to Saphira and laid on it. He looked to the heavens, watching the stars before sleep began to put its cozy embrace on him. They shone brightly overhead; guarding him from danger as the night deepened.

As sleep claimed him, Saphira's blue eyes groggily opened. She gently shifted her translucent blue wing over Eragon's sleeping form. She cooed gently, satisfied at their day's work. Then her massive bony eyelids met her softer scaled under eyes and she followed Eragon down the road of sleep.

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_Thorn, do you think I did the right thing?_ Murtagh asked. He had remained silent to Thorn about his plan to save Aiedail and another prisoner he'd sent away. That is, till just minutes ago when the dragon finally wised up and demanded the truth. And he'd been glad to get it off his chest.

_I think that last part will surely come and bite us in the butt. But I do agree with every choice you made. Though I think you should have told me…_ It was clear that the last part had hurt Thorn a bit. And Murtagh certainly knew why.

_I had to leave you out, Thorn. Galbatorix has gotten suspicious. I don't think I could have kept up the charade for much longer alone even. He might have learned what I was planning had I told you. You understand. Plus, I shall be the one held responsible should he find out._ Murtagh sighed as Thorn gave a low growl. He obviously didn't.

_That gives you no excuse! I am bonded to you, human! And, there for, I am subjected to everything! Everything! Do you even know what that means! _

_Thorn…_ Murtagh interrupted. But Thorn went on.

_I get a share in everything! Your pain, your tears, your love, your fears. I should get all your thoughts as well, but no! You seal your mind off from me even still when you know that I am a part of you and should know _everything _you do!_ Murtagh broke in Thorn's angry rant.

_Stop it, Thorn._ He mumbled. But Thorn continued like he had not heard Murtagh.

_-And I don't. You know why that is? Cause you have to be Mr. Secretive all the time! It took me months to find out when my own rider's birthday was; not to mention all that stuff about Morzan and Eragon! Honestly Murtagh! I think you shared your thoughts better with Aiedail! And you still told her lies! And- _

Murtagh had enough. "Thorn! Shut up! This is much bigger then you and me! You can't just respect that, can you?!"

_But- _

"No, shut up! I've heard enough from you! I tried to tell you about it quietly, but no! Now days, everything has to be a fight! I can't do it anymore, Thorn! You're the only person I have to turn to now. Aiedail's gone. Even if she wasn't, I don't think I'll ever be the same with her again! Eragon won't even look at me! Much less hear what a _traitor_ to his own family has to say! Galbatorix certainly doesn't care! And you know, I can't even trust you to trust what I do is right anymore!" Tears poured out of his eyes as emotions he'd always seen fit to bottle up exploded in front of Thorn. Said dragon was so shocked, he didn't want to look at Murtagh. But he knew he had to…"My mom is gone, Thorn. My father is dead; but even if he wasn't, I would be. All I have is you. Even if the rest of my remaining family will have nothing to do with me, I always had you. And I can't bare to loose you..." his voice trailed off into sobs. Thorn gingerly rested his muzzle on his back. Suddenly, Murtagh grabbed it, holding it in his arms. Thorn was shocked; Murtagh had never been the one to give hugs. Only comfort and receive.

_I won't. I never will._ Thorn said. But then, he pulled away, looked Murtagh in the eyes, and reverted to the ancient language._ But promise you shall never lie to me again. We will take the punishments for our actions together._

For a moment, Murtagh hesitated. Then, he vowed. "I will never lie to you."

_Good. _Thorn replaced his comforting muzzle into Murtagh's grasp. Only, this time, the rider's mood had been changed and he did not hold it. Still, it was a while before he finally was able to get himself together and move on with his duties.

_So, we're outside of Daret?_ Murtagh asked Thorn. The dragon nodded his scaly head; a grim light in his eyes.

_Murtagh, I don't want to do this. Is there anyway around it?_ Thorn stared intensely into Murtagh's brown eyes.

_I wish. Just keep dreaming, Thorn. Maybe one day Eragon can free us, but for now, we'll need to numb ourselves. The lives we take here tonight shall be avenged in blood of Galbatorix one day. I swear it._ Murtagh vowed. Then he spoke again. "Vico en'ynuvi!(numb mind)" Instantly, they felt Daret as enemies, not civilians. It worked only to some extent though. For if they completely numbed their minds, they might kill each other.

_Gods have mercy on their souls._ Murtagh said before he, with a wild war cry, made his way through the mists and into they city…

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_Suddenly, a yell broke the darkness. In the middle of the village blood sprayed from fresh wounds. A woman screamed as a malevolent figure beheaded her. Her blood splashed onto a babe strapped to her chest. Its cries filled the night before a demonic red dragon smothered him in flames, cooking him from the inside out. _

_Screams ran wild as men were struck down where they stood over their families. Children stabbed in their beds so that their own homes became their pyres. With a simple word, lightning stuck down three able bodied men, killing them before they could defend their homes. The village turned red as bodies were falling dead where they stood. Families fled to the forest; only to be hunted down later. _

_Then came thousand degree fires belched from the belly of hell's monster. A brother and a sister, holding hands tightly as they tried to flee the fallen village. They grabbed a chestnut horse. Both swung their legs through the saddle. Men and women swamped the horse, begging for a ride. The horse tried to leave with them and succeeded with only one man still clinging to the saddle. The man yanked at the girl's cloths and she fell to the ground with him. The child stumbled forward, but her foot caught in a piece of fallen wreckage. The boy could only watch in shear horror as the girl's own home came crashing down on top of her, killing his last family. _

_Slowly families were disintegrated on spot; executed for no cause. Old men, women, children, even young men. It made no difference. They were given no chance. The figure stood over a mountain of dead. He breathed heavily. _

_Then he broke down and cried. His skin red and his eyes blood shot, he cried as flames hissed and spat. He cried as blood spewed from half dead half alive bodies, then suddenly silenced. A river of blood flowed into a nearby river, turning it red. The river broadcasted news of the terrible massacre to every part of Alagaesia. _

_Finally, the dragon came to the man's side. He jumped on; as they took off, but no before they set the bodies on fire. Then the man washed off in the river; hoping to wash away the terrible deed…_

Aiedail awoke in a cold sweat. Though she had not shown it, she had only an hour and a half ago found sleep though they had been there over six hours. It was unwise to say the least that they had not designated a lookout, but since sleep could not find her anyways, she found it fine to stay awake. And after what she had just seen, she felt as though she could not sleep or eat for at least several hours.

She looked over their camp. There were no bloody carcasses. No screams of pain. No fire. Only the little safety night could supply. Though it was more dawn then night now. And she knew she would not sleep for long even if she tried. So she began trying to occupy her time.

Her gaze caught a black sheath in the dwindling moonlight. Dre'gui rest near her feet. She unsheathed the beautiful emerald blade. It shone with an unearthly light in the moonlight. Dre'gui. What did that mean? As she thought over lessons she had with Murtagh, it dawned on her. Broke heart. Dre'gui meant broke heart. She remembered how clumsy she'd been with it before. She hadn't ever really fought with a blade before. Only been taught moves. Murtagh had always thought it was too dangerous. Dre'gui seemed to fit her; though she assumed it could never be hers. An onyx pummel on the hilt of the blade shone in the new light of the day. She sighed and replaced the blade to her side.

Somehow, her hands found her pack. She began to look at all she had left of her childhood in those seven pockets. Six held things she had ever held dear. In the first were several items. A farth made by a skilled magician of her and her dad. A beautiful gown Murtagh had had made for her for when she got older. An arrangement of fine linens, laces, and other valuable items Murtagh had made her inheritance. A short, emerald studded dagger Murtagh had made for her.

In the second were considerably smaller items. A small red scale Murtagh'd given her without telling Thorn; she's turned it into a necklace. A heart-shape jewelry box filled with gems, pearls, and gold given to her as trinkets of trade by Murtagh. A small purse filled with money Murtagh had given her.

In the next three, there were clothes and other supplies. Some clothes were for the future, but all were made specially for her. All but one. She'd stolen a shirt long ago from Murtagh while he was on one of his little mad crusades. It still smelled of him. She kept it so she could hold it when she missed him.

Then, in the final pocket she could put things in, she stored her most prized possession. Though now she wore it. It was a necklace, the first gift Murtagh had ever given her. She'd always had it. It was in the shape of a six pointed star. Elegant designs framed a simple word. Aiedail. It was hers and hers alone. To loose it would be a punishment worse then death for her. For she counted on always having it. Not only was it something she'd had for long, but it was enchanted as well. The locket, when opened, could show what was truly in someone's heart. But getting it open was the glitch, for it had very specific conditions. She only discovered how to open it by accident. It needed to be touched by star dust. She'd been taken on a ride with Murtagh and gotten closer to the star of her namesake, trails of dust charged with the star light.

So many memories attached to the items in the pockets. And they all hurt now that she knew the truth. She struggled with herself to stop from crying; thinking of anything to keep from it. She eyed the last pocket. It budged in the new sunlight with an unknown item. Curiosity seemed to be just what she needed.

She remembered Murtagh's strange instruction.

_"Only open it when the time is right."_ He had said. But when was the time right? Could it be now, when the sun had not yet fully rose and no one else dared to stir? She reached out to it, striking its surface. Surprise took her when a metallic echo resonated from her touch. Her hand found the zipper and slowly stared to…

Something stirred. Her hand instinctively pulled away and rested on the emerald dagger, drawing to it for safety and comfort. She glanced over to see Eragon had risen. He looked her way but then took a double take at seeing her awake.

"Didn't you sleep?" He asked.

"The only time I did it was bad." She answered, trying not to sound tired but failing miserably.

He dug around in the now wide awake dragon's saddle bags. After several failures and a slight curse as something sharp caught his hand, he unearthed a bag of powerful smelling herbs and a cast iron pot. He went over to the stream mumbling something about needing to clean out the saddle bags and filled the cast iron pot, and put the herbs in. Saphira blew a steady torrent of flame, quickly melting the herds into the boiling water. Quietly he murmured something over the pot and then grabbed two glasses. He evenly dispersed the liquid between the two.

He gave a glass to Aiedail, saying to her, "Here. This should give you energy for today. Trust me." And with that, he took a big gulp.

Aiedail wearily looked at the liquid. She breathed in the aroma of the fresh spices and decided to trust it. The moment her lips touched the drink, energy surged through her like a lightning bolt. She felt her heart racing and her body stronger then ever. Any exhaustion disappeared like morning dew before the hot sun.

"Thank you." She took another sip, smiling slightly.

"No problem. All of us need it. You should have seen Roran a few days ago. You see, he had been injured on our last trip. Could have died if not for…" he paused as Saphira gave a low growl. Suddenly Roran sprung to life as well.

"Jesse. What a wake up call!" he then addressed Eragon. "Got anymore of that tea stuff left."

"Sorry Roran; you're too late. I'll go make some more." He said. And then he took off

"So inconsiderate…" Roran mumbled as he pulled out some particularly dry jerky. He had just taken the first bite when they heard Eragon's voice.

"Umm…guys. I think you should come see this." He appeared from behind a bush with the cast iron pot still empty.

"Why?" Roran questioned with his mouth full as he sat on a stump.

"Just come with me." Eragon pleaded. Aiedail got up and so did Saphira. Then, pouting, Roran got up too. They all followed Eragon, who made his way to the river. And soon they all saw what Eragon had wanted them to see.

The stream was blood red.

Aiedail's mind instantly flashed to the people of the town she'd dreamt of. _It was real._ She concluded. She saw people running for their lives; some burning to a crisp, others stabbed in the gut. _They didn't deserve to die that!_ The fresh images of the ended lives danced in her head. Nausea took her. Her stomach gave back its contents to the environment. Eragon flashed a concerned look to her.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" she asked, her tone rising with every word. "What's right? What is? Death, tears, blood, so much blood. And for what purpose? For what motivation? Why? For the sake of doing it again?" No tears fell, but her face turned red as any ripe apple. She left, still slihtly dignified, to go to a small tree. Visions of the villagers' deaths flowed through her mind like an endless river. She felt lost in the dark, till suddenly she felt warmth beside her. She looked to see Eragon next to her.

"Quite a display." He commented softly.

"It wasn't a display." She said softly. "Last night, I spent five hours trying to sleep. When I finally did, I wished I hadn't…" Eragon gave a concerned look, but said nothing. "I dreamt of a village. A war cry. Death. Blood. So much blood. And it all burning. A shadow figure responsible. And you know what he did?" Eragon looked interested. "He cried. After killing men and women and children, he cried. How dare he! He had no right to cry! He killed them! He killed them and _he_ was crying!"

"But it didn't actually happen, did it?" Eragon asked.

"I was just getting to that. The blood formed a river which flowed into another one. It wasn't real, till I saw the blood in that stream. It is theirs. It is theirs, I know it!" She looked nearly hysterical.

"Listen. It sounds like you had a vision…" Eragon sighed. He felt bad about t, but he had to know. He snuck into her mind, snaking through vivid memories.

_A young girl racing with a familiar face. Through black halls, the young girl and Murtagh raced. Both laughed and smiled all the way, despite sneers from prissy nobles. She took a sharp turn on freshly waxed halls. Murtagh followed. _

_Suddenly, she began to lose her balance and tumbled forward. Murtagh desperately tried to stop from running into her, but wound up on the floor in a twisted mesh of arms and legs. Behind them, a red dragon made his presence known. He snickered slightly, and then stopped abruptly as he stared at the two laughing on the ground. _

Eragon pulled back, taking in all that the memory meant. It meant she had not only known Murtagh, but been friends with him…or more…but he'd heard him called her his daughter. Could it possibly be? Eragon coiled at the knowledge that his niece may just be standing before him. After a deep breath, he drove back into her fresher memories, careful not to cause her pain.

_A firm hand on her shoulder, she turned to see Murtagh. She embraced him, whispering "daddy."_ Eragon pressed on, carefully paying attention to every detail. _A serious light appear in Murtagh's eyes as he said, _"_Sweetheart, you know how much I love you, but you must leave…" _

_"Why?" Aiedail answered. _

_"You know well why." He gesture to her ears. _

"_Why does that matter? Why am I any different then you? Your ears are pointed too!" she exclaimed as hysteria began to take her._

"_Sweetheart," He answered. "your ears and my ears are pointed for totally different reasons…"_

"_What are you saying?" her tone got louder and more violent with every word. "Are you not the man who raised me? Are you not my father?" she looked at him in shear anger._

_Murtagh was silent. He bit his lower lip hard under her stare._

"_It can't be true!" She screamed at him. Tears fell she her eyes as continued. "You are my father, right?"_

_"I'm afraid, my dearest Aiedail, the answer is nay…"_ Suddenly Eragon felt a powerful force, trying to push him out. He tried to catch what else was happening as he strongly resisted, but other images flashed into his head instead.

_Pain, blood, death, a lone man crying over a mountain of people_._ Women, children, men; families annulated no matter the sex or age._ The images were so pain staking, Eragon withdrew to the safety of his own mind. But the presence followed; stabbing through his most painful memory.

_Two men on an elevated surface. The two dueled intensely. One with a red sword; another with a hand and a half sword. In the skies, two dragons hovered overhead; willing to help when need be. Sweat dripped off their backs. Soon, the one with the red sword fumbled. The other one moved in for the death blow. _

_Suddenly, the other man rolled away, regripping his crimson blade. The other flicked it out of his hands with a flick of the wrist. Horror flashed into the man's eyes as he eyed the sword and fighting techniques. _

_"I know you!" he shouted before plunging at the other man; grasping his helmet firmly. With one yank, the helm came off, exposing Murtagh beneath. _

_Saphira, help me…_Eragon pleaded as iron fingers ripped through his consciousness. She entered his mind to aid her rider.

_Get out! _She screeched. In the real world, her tail swiped forward; knocking Aiedail off balance. She fell to the ground as the presence faded from Eragon's mind.

Eragon fell back, sweat dripping off his forehead. His body was held up only by his dragon's lithe neck. Gently, she picked him up by the shirt with her jaws and daintily placed him in the saddle.

_Thanks, Saphira._ He said as she walked off.

_No problem. But next time be careful._ She said, concerned for him.

_What happened?_ He asked.

_It was your elf friend here. _She answered, picking up the unconscious elf with her jaw and placing her beside him. _By the way she acted, I don't think she can control her magic. It's strong, but it seems to have a mind of its own. You need to be sure she doesn't do that again. The power of her probe…it could have put you in a coma, Eragon. If I had not been there, it would have. _

_It's just…strange._ He looked off into space.

_No, it's not. Don't you remember your lessons?_ She said when he gave her a quizzical look. _Well, if you did, you'd remember what he said about elves. They grow fast. Mature faster then even dragons. But till their tenth year, they cannot control their magics. Their magics control them instead. Even if they became a rider, they still have troubles controlling it till then. _

_Oh ya. That's right. So, you're saying she's young?_ The dragon nodded. _Well, that makes sense. She didn't have many strong memories… _

_Well, just don't try it anymore with her. You never know what's going to happen with a young elf. _

_Kind of like you never know what's going to happen around a rider… _

_…Ya… _

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_Pain. Suffering. Death. Tears. Victims of Daret, burning, slowly dying. It was all his fault. He was a monster. A being even the devils would quake around. And he felt alone. For that was not him. It was his master… A far off pair of green eyes, watching him disapprovingly. A faint roar and a distant green bird as it few on the horizon. As he watched, a child fumbled. She could only sit there while a burning house collapsed onto her. _

Murtagh awoke drenched in sweat. It felt like he was still there. He still didn't know exactly what happened that night, and he didn't _want_ to know. His hands were stained forever red with blood. She was a child. An _enemies'_ flesh and blood. All he knew was that he _killed_ her. She looked just like Aiedail had only a month ago and he killed her. He could never forgive himself. At least he felt right about what he did with Aiedail.

And he knew it was now the right thing. Aiedail, and all she carried with her, would be safe from harm's way. By now he knew she was probably gone, on Bronco, galloping towards Surda or Du Weldenvarden.

He turned on his side and saw the final deep breath of sleep Thorn took. His big maroon eyes opened; pupils focusing in on his smaller counterpart. Murtagh smiled at his friend. He had always needed him. More then anything else. And he would die for Thorn if he had to.

_Good morning, Murtagh._

Murtagh sighed as he eyed a billow of smoke coming from the demolished nearby village. _What could be good about this morning?_ He kicked a large stone away from his feet.

_Don't let last night dishearten you. At least we let the survivors go. _

_Did we, Thorn? Because I have no memory of it. Were there even survivors? We just ruined a harmless village for naught… _

_It is not your action, Murtagh. We had no choice._

Suddenly, he heard Eragon's voice.

"_You have become your father._" He was right. This was something Murtagh would not do, but Morzan would. Yet Eragon was Morzan's son too, but he had found himself in no way, shape, or form like him.

"Why is Eragon the lucky one…?"

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**Hey guys. be sure to keep in mind what happens in this chapter. For everything comes into play in the end...**


	25. Footsteps is the night

As they neared Surda, Eragon began to watch Aiedail more closely. The young girl had the habit of making him uneasy. It was clear that her life had only been recently changed, for when she was not watching him, she was asking questions. Questions that were either quite awkward or otherwise strange. For example, one day, out of the blue, she asked, "What happened to start the war?" It was common knowledge, what had started the war, yet she had seemingly never heard a word of it. So then he would go into an hour long description of what happen, leaving out some small parts which still were of big importance even then.

And there was something about her which confused him. She seemed so different from any other elf, yet so very familiar. The way she acted not included. There was something in her eyes, something unlike that of any other elf. Belief. She seemed to believe in the gods unlike even the most isolated of elves.

But her behavior bewildered him. Most of the Elven race, even before instruction, refused to eat meat. An orphaned elf with no knowledge of Elven customs would normally still refuse meat. But not her. Without hesitation, Aiedail would frequently steal jerky, venison, or any other kind of meat she could from Roran's bags. Much more then Roran liked.

She never let go of her pack for more then a few seconds and always seemed to be watching. Her dreams were horrific and she nearly never slept. This concerned Eragon. But she refused sleeping draughts or spells that he offered her.

As they were landing one day, he decided to try something new. Relaying his plans to Saphira, she grimly approved.

_May be the best decision for now._ He nodded almost unconsciously.

They were just outside Aberon, little more then two miles. And when they reached the city, chances were they'd rarely see the young elf. Eragon was determined to get some straight answers from her before that happened.

The day light was gone, signifying the end of their fourth day from Uru'baen. They had taken their time, mostly flying over forest, not village. They could have been back in two days with a few hours of daylight to spare. However, this was Eragon's first true breather in months and he was determined not to waste a moment of it. He had planed to take one while they came back from Helgrind, but for obvious reasons couldn't.

As Eragon got off Saphira, he motion to Aiedail. She came willingly without a word or a second glance. He ran briskly down the path, not as fast as he could run, just so she could keep up. _Little one, not too far, okay?_ He could here Saphira saying in his head. He brushed her off. She knew where he was going.

_I'm just going to spend the night there. _He pleaded. He could feel her apprehension, but she approved reluctantly.

Slowly they wound their way through the forest, past through the brush, and finally up massive hill.

"Where are we?" Aiedail asked, winded, to Eragon, who sat on a near by stump. Said rider was taking deep, slow, rhythmic breaths; more like he had walked the two miles instead of running them.

"Hush, Aiedail and look down." He said, gesturing to the far side of the hill.

Aiedail gasped. The city was just below them. Lined streets gave way to increasing in size buildings, eventually leading to a massive one she supposed was the palace. It was all so different then where she'd spent her short life. It looked so neat and orderly in the star light; lights on sturdy buildings reflecting the stars themselves. Suddenly, all but one or two flickered out. It was as if a giant bushel had enveloped the city and snuffed their flames. She could faintly smell a sweet, perfume like smell on the light, feathery breeze and eyed a massive garden she could only just barley see. She wondered what it was like in there. She tried to ask Eragon about them, but was at a loss for words.

Finally, she was able to speak. "So, this is Aberon?"

"Yes." Eragon answered with a soft sigh. "And after tomorrow, you'll be free to look for your parents…"

"Why wait?" Aiedail asked with a twinkle of starlight in her eyes.

"The gates are closed shut tonight. Flying in on a dragon is out of the question, as the city has hidden roads and inadequate landing spaces. And even if we did find a landing space, in the low light, Saphira might as well be Shruikan. Climbing in is a no, for the city was well patrolled and constantly on alert even if we are a friend."

"Well, I suppose that's good…" Aiedail said with a sigh. She stared down at the ground for a moment, then turned her head up to face Eragon. Looking into his eyes with a look of fire in hers, she held her gaze on him as she asked, "Will I ever see you again?" Eragon was about to answer till he saw the look in her deep green eyes. It was so intense; so powerful. The world could have ended in that moment and he doubted he'd even notice.

For a second, he found himself tongue tied. Slowly, he found the words he wanted to say. "I…I don't know. In the Varden, you could see me every day or never again. We are uncertain we will even make it for our next dinner. Galbatorix grows more bold by the day. He obviously left the palace, for something. But I know not what…"

"I think I may have actually over heard that he has a meeting with someone—someone important. They said something about a spy…" Eragon's stomach sank. He knew many people spying on Imperial activities. It seemed likely one had been caught…but who? What did Galbatorix have to gain from spies? Anyone sent too far into the Empire always had suicide methods available which they would use in a situation of desperation.

While Eragon pondered these questions, Aiedail slipped into the barn. She looked around. Not a single person was inside and it looked gloomy; empty like her childhood. Why had she been so oblivious to his lies?

With nothing better to do and determined to get the annoying question out of her head, the young girl peered out from behind the door at Eragon and sighed. Surrounded in a shell of silvery moonlight, she could see why she liked him so much. His eyes were sharp and sparkling. His whole body had a mature look to it; one she really felt inclined to have in a man. His hair could use work; and he was much too short for over half the female population; but it mattered not to her. Perfection didn't exist; not even in such a godly figure.

And it wasn't just this which drew her so. It was a sense of power; of personality. He certainly had plenty of both. He was a dragon rider; a friend to immortal elves. His opinion was highly regarded nearly everywhere. He was a leader. He was a warrior and magician. But that wasn't just it either. He was a great friend and stood by even her, adopted daughter of his evil brother.

But something else. Some other connection she felt she had with him. It was like this was just how things were destined to be. Like everything at that moment was perfect.

_I could fall in love with someone like him…_ but then came her major realization. She not only _could_ but _had_ fallen for him. She blinked twice, feeling like she had just looked into the light after sleeping for the first time. He turned and looked at her.

Did he feel the same?

Eragon turned after thinking for a long time towards the barn. He could see it would rain soon by thunderheads crashing through numerous clouds and a light mist already coating the area in a dewy coat. He figured that was where Aiedail had gone. He felt eyes on him as he walked towards the gloomy building. Looking intensely at him.

He pushed his way into the barn. It was dark and drafty. There was a steady drip-perhaps from a fallen bucket or other. The whole barn held its breath. Suddenly he jumped to hear a heavy pitter patter of rain

"Aiedail, where are you?" he said quietly. If his past had taught him one thing it was that this much quiet was never good. He tensed as he heard footsteps beside him, his hand falling to Adurna's sheath.

But just as he was about to pull it out of its sheath, something happened he did not expect. As he turned, warm lips met his. Still tense, he jumped, pulling out of the kiss. His hands instinctively pushed away from his attacker, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"What the hell do you think you were doing, Aiedail?" he fumed at her. She had adopted a stunning look. Her lips moved to say something, but she found she couldn't.

"I guess I was wrong." She said softly.

Eragon's tone drastically dropped, remembering she was still but a child. "I don't feel that way about you Aiedail. I can't. You're not even a year old by our reckoning. I'm over ten years older then you. Almost twenty." His words stung him as badly as they did her. She did not understand.

_"Eragon, this cannot be. You are young and I am old, and that shall never change."_ Even as he spoke, these words burned painful memories in his mind.

"Listen. I'm not for you. Trust me." he said as softly as possible.

His own words brought back a terrible sting. Of rejection. Of humiliation. Of…

Arya.

He sighed and words started to form on his lips when suddenly, he heard a noise. Footsteps. He gave a quick glance at Aiedail, whom was standing there, dumbfounded by his rejection. Then, he did what his experience taught him to do.

Shielding his mind quickly, he reached for Aiedail's hand while covering her mind as well. He nearly pulled her off her feet, but at last they were hidden behind a large group of barrels.

The footsteps increased; both in noise level and quantity. He peeped around the barrel to see a large group of shadowed men. All wore shadowy black cloaks accompanied by no adornments but the final man to enter. His head held higher and he stood prouder. On his cloak was the blood red outline of a black dragon.

The other men formed a shadowy crescent along the opposite side. Eragon looked on with dismay. He knew he would not know if they were friend or foe or even who they were unless they were closer.

The leader stood in the center, looking at the men whom were before him. He waited till there was absolutely no noise; though there hadn't been much to begin with.

"Friends, brothers, we are gathered here to discuss the fate of the Society. It is vitally important. For our enemies, even now, plan our downfall."

"You just say that." A man near the end closest to the door sneered. "We don't even know who this man is. Why should we even listen to him?" Suddenly, without warning, the man dropped dead. The men started to shift uneasily till the man near the center growled. They, once again, became silent.

"We serve our country. We cannot let them down." He said solemnly. Suddenly, someone broke through entrance and then the crowd. His cloak was blood red.

"Karp e tu'maer?" the leader spoke. But Eragon knew from his tone he was beaming beneath his cloak. He instantly recognized his words from an old dialect as "Shall the sun fall?"

"Ter'ie amar." The other replied. His voice was young and strong. What he had answered was "Into darkness." The two men gave a chuckle and embraced.

"Teviu, yu tasu, teviu u hec Ama Limto." Eragon almost gasped. He whimpered the translation to Aiedail, "Welcome, my son, welcome to the Black Hand."


	26. The Conceal of the Black Moon

**Sorry guys! I haven't updated in so long cause I've needed my other, much funnier fic to lighten me up recently. Idk I've been kind of having a hard time lately. So now that you heard that, I suppose I'll get on with the story. I'd rally like if I could get this story more read. So please do suggest it to someone you know or I may just have to put down the keyboard for this story completely. You don't want that, do you? **

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Eragon looked on in shock. The Black Hand! Right in front of him! He'd been looking for months for them and one hapless night, he just finds them? It just seemed…odd…

Mixed emotions swelled through out his body. He felt more aware then ever, noticing even a fly as it land a mile away on a log. He noticed a toad lining up to hunt it while a cat prepared to snatch him.

He felt a since of curiosity too. What compelled any man to join such a vicious group? Who were the men under the shadowy cloaks? Did they have wives; families who need them?

Finally he felt the most dangerous emotion of all. Pure, raw, blood-thirsty rage. These were the men who had been trying to kill him for months. These were the men who frequently killed members of the Varden. These men did not deserve to live…and they wouldn't.

He was about to reach for his magic till he felt his arm trembling. But he wasn't afraid. He'd done things like this a million times. He looked over to see Aiedail shaking like she would on a sudden chilling day in the summer, clutching a fist full of Eragon's shirt. Her eyes were wide with fear and the hairs on the back of her neck, slowly, one by one, pricked up.

It was all it took to stop him from breaking down his magical walls. He couldn't endanger a poor, defenseless young elf. Granted she wasn't really defenseless when she wanted to be, but right now it was rather clear she didn't want to be. Besides, he would miss whatever they were going to say and also to do such a thing would make him like…no, he couldn't do it.

The one in the red cloak shifted. "Let's get down to business. Armello disappeared. He could be anywhere, though I have heard from a fairly reliable source that he has gone into the Empire to retrieve the xlenda."

The other council members shifted uneasily. Eragon joined them, though not for the same reason. "Armello," mean a sort of enemy dragon rider and "xlenda," was the word for green egg. Somehow, they knew. Someone had obviously betrayed them.

The leader murmured something to the red cloaked one which even Eragon could not pick up on and the other nodded.

Then he spoke up. "We all know why we are here. We used to be able to get by. But the Varden are getting smarter. They are requesting King Orrin set laws to keep us in the dark. It won't be long now till I am found out, I'm afraid. But I have recently acquired some interesting information which could help us all. If you are found out, you will die. However, you may give the organization a chance… all you have to do is…" he looked up, like he had something to hide. Eragon figured that he had gotten smart and was giving them instructions with his mind.

"Bear the knowledge well, men. Every thing depends on it."

"Now, Lord Ares, what else do you want to say." The man in the red cloak added.

"Well, thank you, Caurz... As many of you know, Lord Zimello conquer the dwarven king last battle. Reports have come to us that elections are being held for the new dwarven king. The main two are a dwarf called Orik and another called Vanhi. Now, Orik is related to the late king. Word has it; he's as great as his relative. But Vanhi's main strength is in brains. No one outside the dwarves trusts him because he is easily tempted by money. So, that's it. We must make him win." Suddenly, Eragon felt heavy pressure on his shoulder. Aiedail lay on it, fast asleep.

The council lasted far into the night. Aiedail slept through the whole thing while Eragon stayed wide awake, listening to every word said, absorbing them like a sponge to use later. Mostly all he got though was cryptic, "either you know or you don't" type speech. Soon, when Eragon looked away for a second, he could see an amber light on the horizon. Finally the council dispersed, like a group of nightingales to every direction.

He waited for a bit longer, watching as a beautiful aurora of colors exploded across the sky. The clouds like golden beds of soft, blissful down. The sun herself a giant gold pillow. Nearby, a small pond shimmered the rainbow of light; a stream emptied into it, herself babbling soft lullabies. Leaves rocked back and forth, like sweet waves, hypnotizing him; daring him to close his eyes. A sweet aroma of pine rushed his nose, soothing him till it was enough. He fell into a deep, gorgeous sleep.

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Aiedail suddenly awoke with a jolt. A long battered and rusty sword was smiling back at her with a small trickle of blood gleefully playing at its tip. Her neck held a woeful wound which screamed to be treated. She wanted to shriek, but found her mouth tightly bound.

Her arms, however, were not so tight. She frantically looked around for anyone. Beside her lay Eragon. He was deathly still and a sword was pressed against his neck as well. She wasn't even sure he was alive till she saw his chest rise and fall peacefully. She gave a sigh of relief.

She turned her attentions to her captors. Above her were two lanky men, both of which weren't really even looking at her. They both had a tad bit more then a shadow of a beard. One wore tattered clothes of a beggar. His eyes oddly shaped. One of his arms was shorted then the other. The other looked like he hadn't bathed in months, his teeth a strange, awkward mess. One held his sword so badly, it was a wonder all he'd done was prick her neck.

"So do you really think it's him?" the one with the bad sword asked.

"Hope so." The other answered. "Who ever knew catching the 'Shadeslayer' could be so easy. He doesn't look so tough to me. More like my daughter." It was amazing. He spat out the normally respected title like it was no better then calling a boy a girl. The two men laughed, making the bad sword cut deeper into her throat. _If I'm here much longer, he'll cut my head off the way he's holding that thing. He seems to think it's a bouquet of flowers or something._

Sure she didn't want to be killed by someone so unworthy, she began to try to think up a plan. She could wake up Eragon. He could easily kill these two. Heck a monkey with a sword could. But then he thought of what he had said to her. She couldn't prove anything to him till she did it herself. She looked around her, determined to not rely on him. Then she saw her break. Her bag was within arms reach. She slipped out of her bonds and reached over to her bag.

Carefully buttoning it so they wouldn't hear her hands rifled through it, searching for what she needed. They found the hilt and lightly unsheathed it. Dre'gui. It fit like a glove in her small hands.

The man above her whipped his head around as he heard the light sound the sword made as it came out, "Did you hear something?" Before the other replied, the blade, like a shiny green cobra, lashed out as fast as was possible. Before the man holding her by sword even knew what hit him, she sliced right between his legs, red blood snaking out the new broad cut. The red liquid gushed onto her, further tarnishing an already filthy outfit which had seen many a campfire. As she turned to redirect her attack at the other, her sword cut her own hand, slicing it deeply across her hand from the middle of her thumb across her palm to the beginning of her pinky.

The man gave a piercing scream as he fell into the other's arms, writhing in pain. She heard a soft moan and looked to the side. Eragon's brown eyes quickly went from weary to alert as they caught the situation. Faster then lightning, his badly made gag was off and those lightning lips of his took to action. He said two simple words and the two men fell into the stream of blood lying on the ground, neither even twitching.

As the shock of the short battle wore down, Aiedail unbound her mouth, stretching her poor, withered jaw as it came free. She gave a light smile to Eragon. He gave her a grim smile back.

"Thank you. If not for you, I am not sure we'd have been able to escape so easily. But next time, just wake me up." He added grimly. He was quiet for some time, but then said, "Okay, I think those two were alone. I read their minds a little before they died. They weren't Black Hand. They were simply two peasants from the Empire who wanted to collect reward money for my capture. The luck that they had come when they did is now the curse of their graves…I think I'll call Saphira."

_Where are you?_ He asked.

_ Where are _you She retorted. He could fell the anger behind her quarry.

_ You first._ He said firmly.

_Where else, Aberon. I thought you were going to meet me there…_She worried.

_ We got…side tracked._ He tried to leave it at that, but knew she'd ask.

She sighed. _What happened? _

He took a deep breath and answered. _The Black Hand where here last night. They didn't know we were here, but they kept me up all night holding that rumored conceal…what was it called…Black Moon? Well, so anyway, I fell asleep this morning and woke up to find Aiedail slashing at a man who was holding her by sword point. It seems those posters Roran was telling me about have caught on. They were only peasants, but we won't be so lucky next time… _

He could feel sheer anger and figure she probably roared. _Why is it you can't go one night alone without getting into trouble? One night! _

_ Hey, I'm a Dragon Rider, remember?_ He almost broke out laughing from her over the top answer.

_ Don't remind me…stay right there and try not to do anything stupid. I'm coming. I'll kill you if you move an inch._ She growled, clearly annoyed

_ I love you too._ He could feel her annoyance at his sarcasm.

He turned his attentions back to Aiedail. She gave him a cringing smile, gritting her teeth.

He frowned, "What's wrong?"

"It's my hand. It's burning." She said.

"Let me look at it."

"No, you can't."

"Of course I can, Aiedail. I can heal you."

"No, I mean you really can't, Eragon!" but the second he broke through his wall and tried to heal her hand, she screamed. And he felt as though a jolt of lightning had rushed though his hand. Dazed, he fell down to the cold ground. When he came to, Saphira stood beside her, looking down at him.

_Are you okay? _Saphira asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I think so…" Eragon mumbled

_Oh then you are so lucky it would kill me to kill you. Or else you would be cooked!_ Saphira growled.

"What hit me?" Eragon moaned.

"I tried to warn you. I don't know why, but since I was a kid, whenever someone tries to heal me, I end up shocking them. It just…happens." Aiedail commented as she wrapped some cloth from the small area on her shirt with only a little bit of blood on it.

"I'll have to remember that next time, he said, getting up to his feet.

_Alright, I told Roran I'd be back within the hour. And I intend to keep my word, so, let's go!_ Saphira said.

Not wanting to go back to being bugged all the time, Eragon asked "What's the hurry?"

_I don't want you to get hurt again. We're going back to the city._ She answered firmly.

"Saphira, I'm the rider, not you. I say we stay so we're staying."

_No, I'm the dragon. You wouldn't be here without me. The Varden need us. We go. _She sternly retorted.

"But Saphira, you're being unreasonable. I don't think anyone else'll come. And I won't be left alone once I'm there…" Eragon protested

Saphira gave a low growl. _You didn't expect to be the witness of the Black Moon Conceal either, but you were. You didn't expect to be captured after, but you were. You didn't expect to get shocked from healing this young lady, but you did. You come to the city. Who will go against a dragon's word? _

"Her rider. You can protect me and wake me up when we need to go into Aberon." He answered defiantly.

She gave a smirk and picked him up by her jaws like a mother cat would her kitten. _You're coming! _

"Put me down Saphira." Eragon growled as he squirmed. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get lose.

Before turning to leave, she yelled back to Aiedail, _If you want to stay here, be my guest. Otherwise you should come now. I wait for no one but my rider. He I drag along. _


	27. By the light of early morning

**Hey **

**Finally found time to finish the update. I've been working on this particular update since the last one, hoping to update on Thanksgiving. But I don't think it would be what it was if I had. Know you guys are gonna like this one! Without further a due, here's chapter 26:By the light of early morning! **

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That night, Aiedail finally saw why Eragon had dreaded his return to the Varden so... They went to the gates, guards chuckling a bit that the mighty Shadeslayer was being held by his dragon as if he was a tiny babe. Without so much as a word of questioning about the blood drenched girl following them, they opened the two, fresh pine smelling gates to let them in. Roran was waiting for them by a fruit cart when they got in.

Inside were swarms of people, crowding the marketplace. She saw so many things; she didn't know where to begin. If she hadn't been sure it wasn't, she would have sworn it was some city in the Empire, as it looked so much like so many cities she's seen before. There were kids running around in dingy rags, pit pocketing any noble they saw, who were too busy eying fine jewelry to even take a second glance. There was the sound of jangling coins as people exchanged them for food, water, and fineries. There was a mixed odor flowing about the city, from sweet pies to hardy jerky to the more unpleasant aromas of sweat and animal dung. There were jugglers preparing to entertain some nobles and servants running around in circles like chickens with their heads cut off to go get something for their masters. But there were two major differences. One was that from the poorest child, sitting cold and alone on the street, to the highest noble, probably namely Eragon, smiles dominated the area. Sure some people fought for god knows what, but they all knew they had bright futures. Another major difference it no matter where she looked, she saw no one who seemed to be a slave; nor anyone who sold them.

Saphira finally dropped Eragon to the pavement. Rather flustered, he turned to Aiedail and opened his mouth to talk to her, but before he could get out a single word, people of all stations had surrounded them and were busy asking them to do this or begging them to do that. They'd been in the city for only just nearing ten seconds and suddenly Eragon was whisked away, a look of pleading on his face. Before he disappeared, she heard him yell, "Go to the palace and ask for Salma. She'll have a room and food for you." And with that, the Dragon Rider disappeared into the crowd. She did not see him at all after that. It was as if he and Roran and Saphira simply disappeared off the face of the world.

She was left alone to joist through the thick as butter crowds. The currents of the crowd were nothing like a stream. One second, someone would be pushing her this way and she'd get trapped against the other bodies; be the perfumed or sweaty, clan as a whistle or muddier then a pig. At one time, she felt herself being touch with a strange, slimy goop. It stuck to her elbow like a burr and had a weird, almost burning sensation. She instinctively tried to wipe it off, but was shocked to find it wasn't a goop at all. She pulled down and her eyes settled upon a slimy, mucky creature which squirmed in her fingers. Suddenly, it calmed and the sensation was back. She tried to pry it from her fingers, but when she did, her finger started to bleed. She cursed and flung it to a nearby drain duck. It quickly took refuge from the massing crowd inside.

She found herself wishing she was all alone rather then in that hot, smelly crowd. The sight of a man covered in sores who proceeded to rub up against her arm. The smell of unwashed bodies filled the air. The taste on the winds of salty sweat and no end in sight. Her poor skin repeatedly sticking to random people as she past them. She missed the wind she felt when a dragon flew through the sky. Heck, even standing in a dragon's breath was better then this.

The crowd seemed to grow thicker as she reached the center of town. Her body didn't go by a fraction of a second without colliding into another. She'd gather her strength and hide her disgust just in time to crash into someone else. But somehow, all of it…it felt…good. Maybe it was the knowledge that she was in a free place, safe from the horrors of Uru'baen.

The crowd was an endless sea. Only, each atom was so different from the last, it scarcely seemed to be able to be from the same time Finally, the sea began to thin into a river as she neared the palace, as if it was butter that was slowly being melted away. Finally, she could stop to catch her breathe, and that's just what she did.

She sat on the curb and looked down at herself to access her condition. Her body was covered in mud, dirt and god know what else as if it was a second skin. She knew that she'd probably meet someone of high importance before she even got fixed up, as this was a palace and there is more the just a king or queen within those walls. With a sigh, she decided to get it over with. As she approached the palace walls, though, she got sneers from the guards.

"What business does one such as _you_ have in our palace?" one growled, obviously perturbed by her lower rank appearance. He wore little armor, so she could see velvet trappings adorned his stern, cruel looking face.

"Why must you be so rude in your questioning of a _lady_?" she replied, completely with out thinking. She waited for what she knew would be an angry reply.

The guard, obviously fuming, climbed down from his post and rudely addressed her, "What did you say to me, you pile of horse shit?" he reached down to his belt and unsheathed a silver sword, glittering menacingly in the light of the early afternoon. He kept his sword low, but did raise his fist near her face. "I could kill you right now and not loose a wink of sleep over it. Not a wink." he was full ready to smack her across the face.

Bravely and perhaps a bit foolishly too, she carried on with her ranting. "You heard me. I am here as Rider Eragon's _guest_ and an ambassador of the elves." She showed him her ears. "Rider Eragon instructed me to see a woman named Salma about lodging."

With malice in his hazel eyes, he let out an angry growl. Reluctantly, he left her pass, but not with out spitting on her face as she walked by. She fumed, but dared not confront him again. _I'll just need to talk to them later about their rude guards…_

It didn't take long for her to find Salma. She was right in the court yard, shouting out orders to a group of servants. She was a stout woman, much like a tree stump. She was garbed in well weathered clothes that were near the status of rags; they had seen far too many winters and too few washes.

"Hello…" Aiedail started. Salma turned and eyed Aiedail through slanted, perhaps a bit crooked eyes.

"ello? Another recruit? Man, ave ey gotten lax on the standards." Her voice had a strange, obviously foreign accent to it. It was also cheerful and her pudgy cheeks jiggled as she spoke like two big globs of jelly. Aiedail gave a deep sigh as she continued. "Ou an't be ore then sixteen. But iey 'uss you 'ave to start some 'here, don't you Ah, well. You can start by cleaning yourself up and then the ki'en floors." Almost instantaneously, she turned and started talking to some other lady in much richer clothes. Her skin was black as charcoal and everything about her, down to the way her hair flowed out of her scalp, had a regal feeling to it. She finally left back into the palace with an attitude filled walk. Aiedail sighed, frustrated, before tapping Salma on the shoulder.

She turned to face her and her eyes went a little wide as she saw the same girl. "'oldn't you be off 'oing your chores?"

"No, you see, that's what you didn't give me the chance to explain. I'm not here for work. Rider Eragon told me to talk to you about a room. He saved me from a mob during his recent trip to Uru'baen." She said quickly as to not give Salma a chance to interrupt. Salma looked her over again, a surprised, wide eyed look on her face. She eyed her ears, a certain horror on her face. Noting this, Aiedail tried to cover up her ears, but to no avail. Salma had already seen them. She motioned for someone to go to her and the two started talking in a series of rapid whispers.

Finally, hesitantly, she turned to Aiedail. "I'm sorry, mil'dy. I didn't know. A course, a course! I'll show you to your room 'ight away." Suddenly, she grabbed her arm like a child would her raggedy doll, nearly yanking it out of its socket.

She quickly led her up a flight of beautiful stone stairs and down a glorious hall. It was as if the owner of the palace had spared no expense, every wall chiseled to angel-like perfection.

But she didn't see too much, as the maid rushed her to a dark, mahogany door. She stuck in a brass key, opened the door, and pushed her inside. Then, with a loud bang like thunder, the door was shut.

Inside, the room was cool and dark. A small, red candle glinted near the corner. It was the only light in the room, but it was enough to make out rich velvet ivory tapestries flowing gently in the remaining aftermath of the slamming door. The light breeze also drifted a light sent of pine needles around the room. Somehow it was… familiar. Flashes of a mammoth green creature flowed through her head.

She could see off to the corner a bookcase filled with mountain upon mountain of books. There were more their then she could read in a life time. Or, at least, a human life time. She really didn't know how long elves lived. She knew almost nothing about them. All of the books seemed to be scripted with an elegant hand, as if they all had to be perfect. She knew even from far away that they were written in several different languages; of which only two she knew.

A beautiful midnight blue swan bed lie near the other corner, silhouetted by curtains of blue lace. Then bed called out to her, like a siren with its soft, heavenly look. She imagined it would feel like sleeping on a cloud. A rich, deep blue pine dresser painted with vibrant, deep green pine trees sat nearby, with a few, peculiar items taking up space on it. There was a deep green jewelry box, engraved with a simple green emblem on it. It was of an elegant look, as though it had been crafted by a god. There was also a book with queer markings on its surface. She noted that it matched several other books on the book case. And finally, a small, gold locket with a star on it. It twinkled, even in the low light, catching her gaze like a bear would a fish. It hypnotized her, its star seemed to be trying to be as bright as a real star.

Suddenly overtook by exhaustion, she climbed onto the blackish-blue bed. As she lay on the swan-down pillows, she it hit her just how much her life had changed in the last few days. Only a few nights ago, she had been lying on a bed soft as this, but in a place so different, it was hard to even keep up. One day she hadn't even known there was a war, the next she was on the opposite side. The dark and light cites were so different yet so similar.

Her skin started to crawl, though, as she remembered how dirty she probably was. As she looked over her outfit, she found it much out of her taste. Bloody, dirty, and smelled much like a dead skunk. She wondered for a moment then hopped out of bed, sure she wouldn't be able to sleep like this. She went over to the closet to see if there easy anything good. She swung open its doors and was assaulted by an extra breeze of pine. Her eyes were shocked to find an array of the finest, most beautiful clothes she'd ever seen. A white, swan-down-lined dress made with the sweetest silks and satins. A deep blue number that glittered like a sunset on the sea in the dim light even. Several different green ones; one a low v-cut with a gentle black slip underneath, a long, velvet one with gold trim, and finally, a huge, gorgeous number much like a freshly-opened super dewy, extravagant flower. Before she touched even one, she heard someone clearing their throat behind her.

"If you're going to raid my closet, could you at least ask me next time?" a voice took her by surprise, like a icy day in summer. It cut through the air with the precision of a well aimed arrow. A small, delicate, white hand spun her around and she found herself face to face with the most beautiful lady she'd ever met. Her skin was as white and firm as a swan's coat. Her hair, the most graceful black swan feathers, draped over her head like a cloud. As a whole, she did not at all smell like anything unpleasant. It was as though she was a black forest covered in a fresh coat of white snow. Her features were refined; every trace that she was anything but the face of that of an angel was missing. The last thing she noticed about her was her eyes, but they were something she could never forget. They were like a cat's, a bit cold, but powerful and a heart piercing green. The lady's jaw had seemed to come unhinged and for a tenth of a second she thought she saw panic in her eyes. As well she should, looking at her appearance.

"I'm sorry, milady. I guess I was sent into the wrong room." Her eyes remained locked on Aiedail's for a second, and then finally she replied.

"No, it's fine. I never wear any of this stuff anyway." She quickly tucked her hair behind her ears. Aiedail gaped and then reached up and felt her own, hiding them from the lady. She caught her eying them and chuckled, "How rude of me! I need to introduce myself. I am Arya, ambassador for the elves."

"I'm Aiedail. I…I think I'm an elf too…" she said bashfully.

"Of course you are…" Arya said in a strange tone, but then recovered and changed it quickly. "I can usually spot one off the bat…" she gave Aiedail a strange look. "This may seem out of the blue, but would you mind joining me for dinner later?"

Aiedail gave her a confused look. "Why?"

Arya took a moment, and then said, "Well, from the way it sounds, you are not sure who you really are. Maybe… you don't know your parents or something. I thought I might be able to help you find them, that's all. I make it my point to know everyone from and around Ellesmera."

"Sure…I guess, since my host seems to have disappeared." Aiedail said.

"And who, pray tell, is that?" Arya asked.

"The Rider Eragon, ma'am." She said meekly.

"Please, don't call me that. I have always hated things like that between friends…Eragon Shadeslayer huh?" Arya replied in a tone she'd probably use on on a small child.

"Yes ma-I mean Arya. He's my fa…well, the man I used to think was my father's brother. Maybe you know him. His name is Murt-" before she could finish, Arya grabbed her face, holding her hand up to her mouth.

"Listen, you're new here so I won't get too mad about it, but you are not, from now on, to ever speak such classified information to anyone without the okay from me or Eragon or maybe a few, select people. And even then, do so with a caution-trained tongue. There are those who here who would use such information against us." She said discreetly.

"You mean, you knew him?" Aiedail asked, curiosity growing

"Of course I did. He was…do you know how to mind speak?" Arya asked so suddenly, for a moment, it caught Aiedail off guard.

_ Does this answer your question?_ Aiedail asked sarcastically.

_ You catch on fast. _Arya smiled, as though off thinking about something else.

_ Huh?_ Aiedail asked, puzzled.

_ Never mind... Now, Murtagh is the son of an evil man. His name is Morzan and he made the first member of the Foresworn, a group of Dragon Riders who died out long ago, sworn to kill every Dragon Rider who would not join Galbatorix. Morzan betrayed everyone for power...and it lead to his demise. And the same blood was expected to run thorough Murtagh's veins from the moment he was born. But the thing was, he refused to be like his father. He sought out Eragon, the first Dragon Rider since Morzan's death. When he found him, he helped him travel to the Varden and gained our trust. I was with them, but I don't remember much of it, as I was very ill at the time. Then it happened… _

_ While on a search for remaining enemies after a big battle, two of the Varden betrayed us and Murtagh. They killed our leader, making us have his daughter lead, and they captured Murtagh and took him to Uru'baen. There, a dragon hatched for him and he was forced into imperial service. Only a few months ago, Galbatorix sent him to capture Eragon. But he didn't. Instead, he did far worse. Murtagh revealed they were brothers in the cruelest way possible…Eragon hadn't forgiven himself since. He lost a friend and the only direct member of his family._ Arya ended with that abruptly and started leave, gesturing at Aiedail to follow.

SomethingMurtagh said suddenly found its way into Aiedail's head. "_You may hear some pretty ghastly things about me someday, Aiedail. And some of it is true…but know this, no matter what, I love you and almost everyone _else_ in my family." _

She finally knew what he had meant. He had meant her to pass it on to Eragon. He must have always known she'd need to go. She smiled before asking aloud, "Arya, do you see Eragon a lot?"

She froze, "Yes…"

"Next time you see him, could you tell him his brother wants to say that he loves him?" Arya smiled. For a long time, as Arya lead her through the halls, she was quiet. Finally they stopped at a small door. Arya opened it with a small, brass key to reveal a small, but cozy looking room. It was nowhere near as grand as any of her earlier rooms in life had been, nor Arya's, but it had a comfortable enough bed and a balcony with which she could get a beautiful view of the city and sea. She gaped for a second. She's never seen anything like it. It was endless, waters pure and crystal clear. How many great secrets lie within its shadowy depths?

Interrupting her from her train of thought, finally, as though Arya had been contemplating her answer, she said "Yes, I will. I believe you'll find extra clothes in the closet. Get washed up and be back here by six. I'll come get you at six sharp." Arya left the room then. And with her gone, Aiedail realized how stupid she'd been being. She slung her pack off her shoulder and sifted through it. She smiled as she came upon what she was looking for…

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A knock came on the door finally, ten minutes late. Aiedail slipped on a pair of shoes she had in the closet. And then she checked her appearance one last time. She wanted to make a good impression on anyone she met that night. Her brassy hair was up in a tight bun, allowing only the smallest amount of hair to flow freely. The bit that was was greased and brushed to the sides to frame her face. Her gown was a simple, elegant thing Murtagh had made her for her birthday one year, an ivory gown with the smallest tinge of silver. She sighed at her appearance in the mirror. No matter how hard she tried, she was not satisfied with it. She finally opened the door, reluctantly, and she and Arya were off to dinner.

Arya wore a simple, deep green velvet dress. Her raven hair was pulled tightly back and her feet made no noise as she walked. Aiedail could see now things she had missed before. Heavy purple bags fell from her eyes like weights and she came across as a very tired woman. Some sort of pain, of hidden longing, though tried desperately to be hidden, still faint graced her face. Her once seeming tight skin really wasn't so tight.

As they walked, Arya explained that she had invited a few other people. All of whom, it seemed, were either of great importance, or royalty. She could help but let her mind wander, not hearing much more then one word Arya said.

Suddenly, something assaulted her. Aiedail grabbed her head as a sledge hammer beat on her skull, threatening to break it open and spill her brains onto the floor. Or at least it felt that was. It was suddenly joined by another, heavy, pulsing pain. It felt as if she'd been hit in the back of the head with a dab of coal. She fell to the ground, head pounding so hard she couldn't get up. Her chest grew tight, each breath a battle she fought to win. Her eyes seemed to be being poked out of her head as the pain intensified. All she could do was feel the pain. Noise was gone. Taste left her mouth. Vision deserted her. Any other sense was snared, caught like a rabbit in a trap before it could ever reach her brain. Finally, she blanked out. The last thing she remotely heard was a muffled mix of noises, of panic.

She finally felt a shaking on her arm. "Aiedail, are you okay?" she heard a familiar voice asking. She opened her eyes to see big brown eyes staring into hers. Brown hair feathered out in the wind and elf features glowed in the low candle light. All of his face held worry. He wore a rich looking blue tunic and pants. She gave him a pained smile. The burning began to fade, for the moment. She strived to make her feet move, but they refuse too budge. Her feet were too groggy and useless to her, like they weren't even a part of her.

She kept pushing till she could finally move them. And gingerly, she got up. Her feet suddenly failed her and she was left sprawling on the floor. Eragon's hand reached down to hers. Reluctantly, she grabbed it and he pulled he to her feet.

"I think you should go back to your room…" He said, clearly concerned.

"I'm fine." She insisted, shaking it off like she hadn't really even ever had it. She gave him a painful smile.

"No, you're not. You just blacked out for no reason. No trigger. You can't tell us you're fine when your clearly not." Arya snarled. There was worry in her voice. though she was mad at Aiedail for lying.

"You can't tell me how I feel. If I say I'm fine, I'M FINE!" Aiedail said, stubbornly. The duo's eyes were wide with worry, but they accepted her answer.

The three all came into the dining hall together. It was a large, pyramid-shaped room which seemed endless. Near the center was a spacious table with a gold-embroidered table cloth spread out across it. Candles lit its center and exposed fine china as can be. Forks, plates, knives, bowels, all empty vessels waiting to be filled. Sweet aromas drifted to their noses from the kitchen, making them forget for a second what happen to Aiedail. It didn't last long, but it was certainly enough of a distraction. At the entrance was a clock. Aiedail looked at it and saw she actually hadn't been out that long. Maybe ten minutes

Arya took her place at the far end of the table. As Eragon took his place on her right side, she could have sworn she saw a hesitant, almost sad look in his eyes. She didn't want to be sitting all alone as the rest of the party arrived, so she sat on Arya's left side, still a bit angry at Eragon.

It wasn't long till deep shadows filled to doorway. She saw tow figures form out of them. One was a young man. He was garbed in soft blue, silky looking clothes that gleamed in the light. On his tangle weave of brown hair sat a heavy looking gold crown embedded with blue and red sapphires. A regal cape extended down his back with a blue top and red bottom. It fluttered like a butterfly as he walked. His face was decently handsome but his eyes were set in a funny, almost silly way which mad him look like he did goof around sometimes. He had a shadowy beard forming on a cleft chin. His hand extended back to pull someone out of the shadows.

Holding onto his hand was a dainty black hand that she recognized at once from earlier. The owner's skin was charcoal black, almost unnaturally so. She dainty took the last steps down the few stairs and into the light. She was garbed in a deep purple dress with a modest square cut embedded with black and amethyst gems. On top of her high bun, slightly brown tingled hair sat a dainty, light looking tiara of silver incrusted with diamonds that slowly gave way to amethysts. Her sharp, brown eyes seemed upset about something…

The pair took the two spots by Eragon, bowing slightly. Arya mumbled to Aiedail, "That's King Orrin of Surda and Lady Nasuada, ruler of the Varden." They murmured greeting to Arya and Aiedail, before talking to Eragon and amongst themselves. Aiedail felt like a tiny ant, knowing that they were who they were.

But it didn't really last long, as she was quickly distracted by more shadows massing at the door. With as smile on his lips came a familiar face. Roran wore decent clothes, though nothing compared to anyone else in the room. On his arm was a sweet-looking girl with waves of copper. They both looked more cheerful then ever. She guessed the lady had to be Katrina, Roran's fiancée. Arya could tell by the look on her face she didn't need to be introduced to them. The two sat next to her; Katrina right beside her and Roran at her side. Aiedail wondered a bit why he didn't sit next to her till she saw the wary way he looked at Arya. He was…scared of her.

Like a massing shadow, the last person had slipped into the room without anyone really noticing. He was at the final seat before anyone even noticed him He was a fine looking gentleman. He had deep brown hair that came out of his head like leaves on a tree. His sly-looking brown eyes gazed back at every other eye watching him. His black dress seemed odd compared to the rest of the colorful room, but not threatening. He gave a big toothy grin to Arya. An awkward silence plagued them for a moment, till Arya spoke.

"This is Arribane. He was recently elected as the newest member of the Conceal of Elders. He has said several times he'll help us get our points across to those…well, the rest of the conceal. I thought he could join us for dinner." Arribane nodded.

"Nice to know there are so many good people on our side." He murmured in complement. He looked around the table, eyes stopping for a moment longer on the three on the end. He made Aiedail feel uneasy as he shifted to a knowing grin. It looked like he was talking mentally with Arya. She suddenly had a drastic change in expression. She looked… scared… Then he spoke again, "So, I trust your trip to Uru'baen went well?"

"Depends on what you consider well. We didn't die. And I rescued her from a mob of angry people who were chasing her." Eragon answered, gesturing to Aiedail.

"You mean you didn't get the…" Nasuada budded in.

"No, we didn't. We thought we knew where to find it, but we didn't." Eragon answered solemnly.

Aiedail felt an invasive presence in her mind suddenly. She relaxed to hear Arya's voice, but tensed back up again when she heard what she had to say. _Aiedail, I want you to stay away from Arribane. I…I'm not sure he can be trusted… _

_Why?_ Aiedail asked, innocently enough.

_Just do it. I get a bad feeling from him. _Her face was smiling but she seemed tense, green eyes glaring hard at Arribane.

Suddenly, a voice beside her nearly made her jump. "So, you're a pretty little thing. What's your name?" Katrina asked sweetly. She smiled.

"I'm Aiedail." Aiedail replied softly.

"So, Aiedail, did you freak out when you first saw Saphira?"

"Not really…"

"Huh, must just be me. I just can't stomach dragons…"

"Oh no, Katrina. You have it wrong. The only reason I wasn't scared was because I saw…" she looked over to see Arya staring at her hard and remembered what she had said. "the red rider's dragon all the time."

"I've seen him too." Katrina shuddered.

"Katrina here was the captured for the longest time and had a run in with him." Roran added.

Aiedail decided to be coy with them. Acting like she hadn't known it was her yet, she said. "Katrina huh? Roran talked about you all the way back." Aiedail asked.

"Did he really talk about me?" Katrina asked, rather flattered. Aiedail nodded. In response, Katrina kissed Roran's nose lightly.

Trying to loose some of the awkwardness at the table, Orrin changed the topic. "So, Arya, how go the…negotiations?"

"Fine, fine. They said they'd do it with no real trouble. They only want what they originally said, and I don't think that will be too bad of a problem." Arya replied vaguely.

"I should hope not or we shall lose a valuable ally." Nasuada finished.

It kind of went that way till Aiedail was stuffed and simply picking off crumbs and bits of conversation. She only really spoke when talked to, which, other then Arya wasn't really often. Through to second course, she found she could really hear them very well. The harder she tried, the worse it got. A dull throbbed started as she began to shake. It was as if it was winter and she was out in the snow. Her hand cramped as she tried to move them. Suddenly, as if she had no control over herself, she fell to the ground, shaking violently. Before she even knew what hit her, everything went black.

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_Screaming. Intense pain. Burning. A face engraved in the dark… _

Aiedail's green eyes flickered open to greet a stale, misty darkness. At first, she'd thought everything was a dream, and then she saw she could not be in Uru'baen or any other place she'd lived her life in. It was early morning, before the sun even rose. Her body could barely take the nightmares she experienced nearly every night. She wished for them to just stop. They always felt so real, so horrible. She couldn't take it anymore…

She smiled as she remember her room had a balcony. She went out on its shadowed marble to watch as golden light started to show on the shaded blue sky. Soon a faint light whined through her room to the door. She smiled as the sun started its brilliant display. Nothing in the world had ever looked so beautiful then that crisp morning. The scene was tranquil; the clouds drifting by like sweet swan feathers falling on the sun-tinted sea. Echoes of sunrise intnsified as sun showed her face above the tree line. Golds and oranges and pinks and purples streaked the sky like an angel's harp. As the brilliant sphere rose high above the masked stars of night's last touch on the land, she smiled. Soon night had completely left the sky, letting day take her place.

As the morning star became the only hanging in the sky, somehow, she felt today was going to change…

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Something within burned like fire. Not the warm, comforting feeling he got when she was near as it is when you bundle up by the fire place with a cup of piping, sweet coca, stirring around a few marshmallows and laughing with friend, but an intense blaze like an uncontrollable wild fire burning all walls, all obstacles. A sense to break out. To wake, for the first time in the veins, was a wild fire as blood and adrenaline mixed, preparing for what lie ahead. It bade sleep to leave and wakefulness to come forth. _It is time._ Something within said. And it was all to start with the first step; to break free and come forth to greet the early, new light of the first day.

Gold rays warmed him in a way he never thought it could feel. Freedom was a thin centimeter away from his door and his aching muscles screamed for the joy of it. Sharp little claws kicked. Strong little teeth griped. He pushed, hard and long, till he got what he wanted.

_Crack. _

Light seeped into the once internal darkness. Beautiful beams of the aurora of daybreak scalded his frail frame. It stunned the sharp little eyes, bouncing off the little pupils for the first time. At first, it hurt. The shock. The vulnerability he would soon feel. Once this was done, once he came forth, he could never go back. Never have the warmth and safety he felt now.

But another sense drove him forth. Of freedom. Of adventure. To see the world. To feel his wonders and woes first hand instead of staying safe and sound in his case. This wanting, this yearning to feel the wind on his face as it whizzed its way around the world, drove it to push again.

_Crack. _

More light. More freedom. More vulnerability. As fear and excitement grew, he drove himself to do something that scared him at first. He cried out. The noise was so full, so real, it made him stop again and wonder if he should keep going. He was safe here. He was safe. And he was about to cast himself out of that safety, into the light, into judgment of other eyes. But he could hear her, in his head, already long able to feel her, fuzzy as it maybe.

_Crack. _

A whole section melted off. It displeased him to see a fabric obstructing his way to freedom. Again he peeped, hoping for the assistance of her hand. No one came. Again he called out. No help. No noise. He would have to do this alone.

He butted away another section, it breaking in front of his eyes into a fine powder. Some fell in his eyes and he gave a low peep of distress. Not sure he wanted to try that particular move again; he raised his hind foot and kicked. Finally, there was enough room for him to get out.

As he slipped out, so did the rest of the remaining goop and blood. Exhausted and messy, he took a moment to rest, his every fiber tired. Not use to the gravity of this strange new world, it pressed down on him and he strived to breath his first breath. The air around him was hot and stuffy, but to new lungs it still felt great.

He glared at the fabric around him. It was wet and cold and made him feel cramped. His body quivered. He gave a light growl and slashed out his front claws at it. The fabric would budge. He felt the air around him grew tighter as he took more breaths. He knew he had to get out soon or his time there would be all too short. Distressed, he called out over and over as loud as he could…

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A bizarre noise trumpeted through the room, shaking Aiedail from her day dreams. It was like the distressed peeping of a bird, only shriller and wilder and more scared. A strange, faint fealing over took her. It was like someone was smothering her. She decided it was a spell of dizziness left over from last night and went to her bed to lie down.

Some strange sense kept her away from the bed, though. A pleading sense, like something was wrong. She turned and for some reason, she felt a need to open the pocket Murtagh had been so secretive about. She remembered his words, _Only open it when the time is right._ It had to be right now. She felt like part of her would die if she didn't open the bag right now. Rushed and a bit shaky, she quickly opened the bag.

The instant she did, she felt something rush her. It smashed into her hand with incredible force. She recoiled her hand to her face, holding it up to the sunlight. A glowing, silver orb burned on her palm, as if by some ghostly power.

It burned like touching a frozen sun. She cringed as incredible energy burned through her veins. A power, yes. But one that threatened to take over her whole being. Soon her eyes could only see a muffled mix of color like a painting left out in the rain; her ears felt as if they were being covered by a pair of hands. Every known sense abandoned her. All but one. She was left with nothing but the pain. And what a pain it was. It was as if her hand had been frozen all thing time, till finally someone threw it into the fire. But somehow it felt…good. As if the pain was just a downside to having all the power in the world.

She tried to scream, and might have, but she didn't know. She was completely oblivious to all but the pain. It was as if the train that hit her kept plowing down the road, her powerless to stop it. No one would ever know what happen to poor Aiedail till her eyes and mind were glued shut in death's final, un-undoable embrace.

Finally, it began to ease. Slowly her vision returned as it dulled to a light ache. Her hearing grew keener. Her mind clearer. She was able to catch her palm glowing faintly as the ache subsided. Then it was all over.

She stayed there, stunned, for a moment. Two green eyes stared right back out of the shadows at her and she felt someone touch her mind. She recoiled at first. It was a feeling of openness which scared her. But then she became kind of curious about it. It was much like Saphira's mind. But the thing was it wasn't. As it continued to dab her mind, she found it felt…good. As if she hadn't been whole till then.

"Who…who are you? Show yourself." She said shakily. She heard a light scraping across the floor as the green eyes move out of the shadows and into the light. A long snout was the first to great her eyes other then its eyes. Slowly the outline around the eyes grew till a snaky neck was visible. Soft-looking green scales interlocked together like a dense canopy of leaves; fresh and vivid from spring. With each step the neck grew till she saw hefty looking, for its age, shoulders. Each segment of its neck till then had been adorned by short white spikes. But there was a gap where the stringy muscles of its brand new shoulders met its neck and the rest of its body. Two, lithe legs were now visible as well which both ended in butter soft talons. It kept on. Two gawky wings came into the light; much too big and obviously heavy for the hatchling. Both glowed in the morning light and she could see red blood pulsing through its veins as visible as they are in a fresh bud, newly turned into a leaf. Both wings were crinkled up like a freshly hatched butterfly's are. Past the wings were two more legs, more stout and powerful then the front but probably less maneuverable. It kept moving. Extending out of its body was a long tail, each scale on it shining as they came into the light. All it all, the entire thing was slightly damp; obviously freshly born. But she realized it wasn't just anything. It was…

A dragon.

Emerald scales cast shadows onto the walls as it came up beside her, looking up into her eyes expectantly. She couldn't help but quiver as it cooed lightly to her, oversized wings flailing awkwardly in the air. Its lengthily neck bobbed up and down, lightly humming as though it knew she was afraid and was trying to calm her with its dragonish lullaby. Dizzied, it fell over suddenly, gravity still new to its legs. She gave a light, tense laugh and the little dragonling looked up at her with its lime tinged eyes.

Its neck reached out and she almost jumped back to keep away from another icy blast, but was surprised to find that as it nuzzled her leg all she felt was nothing more than a pleasant tingling from her palm.

The young dragon yawned and curled up to go to sleep by her leg. She hesitantly reached down and pet its scaly hide. It began to purr and peeped one eye open for a second before comfortably shutting them. It had had a long day and breakfast hadn't even come yet…

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**Whew! Pat yourselves on the back if you finished! That was 7,111 words right there that was! I hope you liked the hatching sequence. I tried unbelievably hard to make it my own. Different from C.P.'s or another source of inspiration I've been using a lot called The Pit Dragon Trilogy. I know this whole thing was really long, but there is a reason for that. I knew I had to introduce him sometime. And I also do have a name for him already. Just wait till next chapter when you hear it! I can't wait till then! All I hope is that I don't intimidate my readers by doing this like this… till next update… **

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	28. A mini adventure

**Fixed it. If you ask me, the middle part is so much less hollow. So take pleasure in reading this refined form. I also tried to fix some of my mistakes I'm so prone to make with this story. So, enjoy! **

A solid knock rung out through the room around mid-morning. Aiedail jumped awake from solid sleep, the first she'd had in months. She almost expected the whole thing was a dream. But her leg was unusually warm and as she looked to find the source, her eyes caught the tiny scaly thing curled in a ball next to her leg.

Another knock brought her back to the current matter. She quickly hid her bag and through her blankets over the startled youngster. "Just a minute." She said loudly before mumbling to the babe, "Stay here. I really need to check a few things before I can tell anyone." All she got for an answer was a tiny yawn.

But before she could be further assured it knew what she meant, the door swung open. Eragon stood at its entrance, looking right at her.

"What took so long? Been out here for a while…" Eragon asked inquisitively. She tried giving him a blank stare back to hide what she'd really been doing.

"Sorry, I had to fix…something first." She answered vaguely. He quarried no further.

He smiled. "Good to see you are alright. You gave us all quite a scare last night…"

"Scared myself too. I…I don't know what came over me. Probably just a little sick and stressed." He looked down, as if he knew it was a false statement. A silence set in for a second.

"Well, do you feel okay now?" he asked, a look of genuine concern on his face.

"Yes, I feel fine." But what she didn't say, though she wanted to, was: _Unless you count a crazy feeling of being dead yet extremely alive all at the same time. _

Instead he turned his back to survey the room, while adding, "I keep forgetting to ask you something and realized I had to before I really got started today. You know that sword we got from Uru'baen?"

She nodded.

"Well, I'm going to need it. The third rider, when we find them that is, probably won't want to share blades with another person. It'd be best to keep it in the best condition as possible." He said, completely unaware of the situation she was currently in.

She had to really focus to keep from laughing. So, to satisfy her urge, she merely mumbled under her breath, "You'll just end up giving it right back to me a few hours from now…" He looked hard at her.

"What did you want to tell me?" He asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing…" The look in his eyes told her he didn't buy it, but he queried no further. While she turned to retrieve the blade, he just sat there, as if focused on something.

Suddenly a light jumped into his eyes and he gave a soft grin. She turned to him, Dre'gui at hand. He took the elegant blade, the same strange light still in his eyes. She shifted, uneasily, under his gaze; careful to hide her palm.

"Need anything?" He asked as he finally turned towards the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny scaly snout peeping out from beneath the covers. Coolly, she made her way towards the bed, picking up her clothes form the floor and folding them in front of the little beast to hide its emerging figure.

"No, not really." Aiedail said discreetly. She didn't really trust herself to say anymore at that point; her marked palm holding the dragonling back from exploring, tingling ever so slightly. She tried to keep from laughing, but was not doing too good.

"Okay, Aiedail. But if you need anything, you know where to find me." He turned to leave. Suddenly, as the adrenaline of hiding the little beast ebbed away, Aiedail became aware of a pressing matter.

"Wait Eragon." She said. He turned to face her instantly, as if expecting she'd have done that. "You wouldn't happen to be getting something to eat soon, would you?" Eragon smiled at her.

"Sure. I was just going to go back to my room and drop Dre'gui off, wake Roran up, and go have breakfast. It'd be nice if I had some company. Roran's been ditching me more and more each day to spend time with Katrina."

"He's still not up?" Aiedail giggled out, the restrained dragonling lurching to try and figure out what the commotion was about.

Eragon gave a light laugh. "Ya, he's never been a morning person."

Straining slightly as she held back her little beast, she added, "Well then. It'd be an honor to have breakfast with you."

"Great. Meet me in the dining hall in a little while." And with that, Eragon finally left.

After she was sure he couldn't hear, that he was long gone, she released the squirming lizard behind her. It had made its way all the way out of the blanket, and looked up at her, big green eyes glowing. It cooed softly and sat on its haunches. She smiled, comparing its tent sized wings to the rest of its body. It was strange, how the little thing could seem so awkward and yet so powerful at the same time.

"I'll be gone for a little while. You stay here while I'm gone and I'll bring you something. Okay?" she said. The only reply she got was more cooing and what sounded like a combination of a kitten's mew and a soft, grumbling roar. She thought briefly of Thorn and Saphira, how powerful their roars were compared to its. They had to start somewhere she figured.

She reached out on the connection, startling the dragonling for a moment. She knew thinking it would already know English would be like thinking a baby could talk from the second it was born. So instead, she tried to think of a picture of her leaving and the dragon staying put. Then, after a short while, her coming back with a raw chicken or something similar. She could hear the dragonling peep in excitement over the idea of food.

"Only if you stay though. You got it?" It seemed to nod its head eagerly.

She soon had left the room, not entirely convinced even that she'd be so luck as to manage to keep the dragonling from trying to follow her. It had fallen asleep, knowing from her message it would be a little while before its meal would be there. Aiedail got a bad feeling, leaving it alone though. But she really needed to know where she stood, who she could trust right away with his existence and who she would have to wait to tell or mess herself up. She remembers Murtagh had told her he had had a similar system with her. Rumors had spread, of course, of her existence after the first day. But he only managed to keep anything bad happening right away by learning who he could trust. That way, he was guaranteed that only once Aiedail had become capable of defending herself, did he let his guard down a bit. But when would that be for the little dragon. A month? A year? For having been around more different dragons, from Thorn to Saphira to even a short time with Shruikan, seeing them more of the time then anyone else in the Empire except Galbatorix, she realized she knew surprisingly little about them. What they ate or where they came from or how smart they were or anything other then a few, unimportant things. But she was still nervous at leaving it alone…

Sure that its rider was long gone, the little creature peeped its eyes open. Having absolutely no intention to be stuck it the room, it gave a toothy grin. The urge to explore was too strong; the desire to know what was just outside too great. Getting up, looked down at the far away floor. Without giving what was in comparison to us like jumping off a tree, it hurled itself into the air and off the bed. Though too young to fly yet, somehow it knew to spread its wings, landing gracefully to the floor. It steadied itself for a moment, using its wings and tail to balance out its returned wait. It took a few strides, wings scratching the floor. Annoyed over its dragging wings, the little dragon tried holding them high. But it felt awkward and it soon gave up.

An obstacle loomed above its tiny head, towering in the air above its head firmly and effortlessly like a smooth, hand-hold-less cliff. The door. Light crawled from underneath it, calling to it like a siren of sun. Freedom. The hatchling tentatively stretched out one steel claw to the door, pawing it to test its strength. Whatever it was made of, it was strong, but the dragon's nails were stronger, leaving long scratch across its surface, the only scar to adorn the face of the otherwise flawless door. It gave a happy chirp at the positive success, but explored the door a little more; knowing its rider would not be happy if the little creature broke her door and so doing the only defense between her dragon and exposure. At one edge, it stuck out slightly. The dragonling stuck a talon in it, pulling its new stringy muscles back to see if it would follow.

With some protest and complaining, the door creaked open, following its sharp little talon back slowly. Holding it still, the dragonling peered out it the torchlight stone halls. The grey halls were lit to a bloody colored light, allowing anything seen through the shadows to appear much more menacing. A bloody shadow was in the distance, moving slowly away from where the dragon was. It looked around the lit halls, searching for anything which might hinder or help its quest for exploration.

Finally sure no one was coming, it looked for a place to hide, eying a red carpet flowing across the middle of the floor. The rich carpet defiantly lead somewhere, its bottom easily removable though. Seizing its chance, the dragon made a mad dash to the carpet, ripping it up and diving under it like jumping into a tiny rich red river. Much to its dismay, the carpet could not hide its bulk. But still. It had read Aiedail's thoughts and knew she didn't want it to be seen. On this, it agreed more than she would ever know.

Picking up its feet, it stayed near the edge, watching where it was going with the fascination only a new born could have. So many new colors, all seeming to meld into one another. The smell of wet stone. The touch of the carpet across its scales. Light shining on its scales, scattering emerald reflections across the dull stone. At one point on its slow journey down the corridor, it met up with another creature making its way down the rug river. A little bigger then the hatchling, it covered in dirty grey fuzz. Long whiskers extended out of a fleshy pink nose on a triangular snout. Beady eyes looked at the dragonling with surprise and fear. It opened its maw, let out a startled squeak while dashing away. The dragonling looked back to watch as it dashed away. But it also saw something else. Something else accompanied by voices and footsteps.

"What's that?" a deep voice asked. Not really knowing what the noise meant, the little dragon did not want to stay and find out. It took off in the opposite direction, only keeping in mind two things. Not to be seen or caught. Feared darted between its green eyes as its wings spread to cool its body. It ran up short stairs and down long halls till it was completely out of breath. Pausing to rest, it wondered where it was for a moment. Sneaking its eyes out, it looked for the familiar shape of its room.

Suddenly, some unseen object smashed down on its tail. It gave out a piercing peep, startling itself for a second after. Above the carpet was a rich noble who had unwittingly put his foot in the wrong place. The noble had no idea what hit him. Stunned by the screaming shriek, he didn't think to move. It was a mistake he'd never forget though.

Though unable to breathe fire, it did have one defense. Snarling at its captor, the little dragon bit down hard into the thing holding its tail. Sharp, vicious little fangs pierced through his shoe like a steamed knife trough butter. Coppery blood rushed into the dragon's mouth, startling it slightly. But it held fast as the noble freaked out and gave his own shriek, desperately trying to shake off the little knife-like fangs incaseding his foot. 

Around him, nosy noble formed a crowd gathered; only catching slight glimpses of blood, fang, scales and tail. Some tried to help, but the noble was too shooken up, kicking anyone who tried to reach his foot. This frantic fight went on for what seemed like forever.

Tired beyond belief and in shock, the noble gave one, last, strong kick, managing to get the dragonling's tooth out of his foot and sending the rug-shrouded hatchling flying. It landed with a sickening, bone crunching thud in the garden.

Dazed, the hatchling, for a moment, only saw and heard a blaze of noise and color as it lay in the garden. The little creature resorted its thoughts slowly and with that clarity came fear as a group of nobles came towards the place where its tangled form lay. Rarely ever actually doing anything, the nobles had no idea how to go out looking for the attacker. Nor did they want much more then a funny story to tell at the next extravagant feast they went to. Still, they were getting closer and closer with each second. Too close for comfort. Desperately, the creature clawed and chewed at the rug, knowing it made a direct path to where it lay. Slowly, in what seemed like an eternity, the cloth started to thin, but the crowd ebbed ever closer, closest person mere feet from the poor dazed hatching's current position.

Finally, as the bulk of the crowd neared where the lead man had been moments before, the cloth broke with a protesting twang. And as it did, the hatchling instinctively ran to a plant colored much like its own scale color. It quickly dug a shallow hole to hide its features and closed its lime eyes. Just that second, the first member of the crowd began to examine the remains of the chewed up carpet. The group soon joined him except for a few stragglers, left to care for the delirious, wounded noble. Motionless, the little dragon held its breath, hoping his coat of dirt and camouflage would be enough.

Even at the risk of being caught, it couldn't help but peek through shallowly opened eyes to see what was going on. The first man wore black, his features indistinguished. Something about him, even to the one day old babe could feel, seemed menacing. He spoke, but the little dragonling was so scared, it understood nothing; not even hearing the normal distinct sounds he made. But his voice was cold, like the kind of cold that sunk into your soul, eating away at your heart.

Finally, after forever, the group all went back to tend to their injured friend. They all helped carry him to the infirmary, or just tagged along to see what would happen. One stayed behind for a moment. The man. He looked right at the dragonling, shrouded grey eyes prying the vegetation away from the little dragon's frail figure. His gaze seemed to burn like the dragon's own inner fire. Finally, he took his leave going the opposite direction the group.

Dead silence filled the air. The little dragonling opened its little eyes, searching for any sign of the returning crowd or anything else. Upon finding none, the hatchling very cautiously rose, shaking dirt off its hindquarters. It peeped lightly at the dense foliage around it. It was hopelessly lost in a strange, new world.

Maybe it could find its Rider. But it thought better for a second, knowing that she would be angry and punish him for it. But was that experience, couple with being lost and hungry really worth it? Gods know what else wait to maim the little beast.

The hatchling made its resolve, deciding whatever punishment it would get from its rider was better than getting shook around like a rattle by a prissy noble who'd probably never even got a scratch in his life, much less anything which broke his flawless skin. Having made its choice, the little dragonling began to cut through the dense jungle of flowers like a knife through meat. Making good time, the dragon began to reach out to minds, trying to feel for its rider.

After several minutes like that, the dragonling found something. Not what it was looking for, but this it couldn't resist. The smell of food. Peeking its head out of a rose bush, it saw carts carrying an array of meals away from the doors. Reasoning how to get some, it figured it'd have better luck stealing some from the kitchen then wherever those carts were going. One person opened the doors and held the door open to turn and talk to someone. This was its moment.

The little dragon made a mad dash for the door, slipping in just in time before the door shut. It dashed under a tall, long table, letting its body cool down for a moment. Peering through the bottom thin cloth covering the table, a pair of feet became visible by the table. A voice droned out one word. While still trying to figure out what was said, suddenly a steak fell on the floor.

The dragon waited for a moment, making sure the person wasn't going to pick it up. Then carefully it stuck out its scaly head. Reaching out for the meat quickly, it dragged it under the table and gobbled it up happily. But the steak had not been for human consumption…

Cockily, the little creature stuck it out its head again, looking for seconds. But instead of another piece of sweet meat, a monster sat and waited for it. A half wolf, half husky mix. It was huge, fur much too long for such a climate. It stood up high. But it clearly made him look much bigger. Trying to imagine its true size, the dragon still saw the beast had to be five times bigger then it. A crude collar held the monster fast to an unseen wall. Lifting his lip to expose two rows of blood stained teeth and giving a low growl that winded the smell of decay, the beast, upon seeing the animal which stole his dinner, lunged forward, still intending on having his breakfast. Only with fresh meat.

Caught by surprise, the hatchling sat for a moment before it tore off, but not before being raked by sharp fangs, cutting through its still new skin. It cringed, resisting the urge to scream in pain, but, because it didn't want to be breakfast, it kept going. But the table was running out and there was nowhere for it to go. The little beast peeped in displease, hoping for a rescue it knew would never come.

Thinking quickly, the dragon jumping into on of the carts exiting the kitchen. Only a second later the creature was where it had been only a few seconds before. But plans of a fresh breakfast were cut short as the mutt, with a sudden jolt from his collar, was stopped from further chasing the hatchling.

Relieved, the hatchling sat in the under cart, completely exhausted. It still tried to feel for its rider, unsure it would ever even find her. Giving up, it just sat, having enough adventure for the day. From outside, it heard a door open. Then a pair of voices boomed and another door was open. Tired of being on the cart, the dragonling slipped under a passing table, too tired to care about a pair of eyes on it, glaring hard. A presence reached out to it suddenly.

_What are you doing! You were supposed to stay it my room!_ A familiar voice called out. It looked over to see Aiedail's face, glaring back at it. _I dropped my fork. What are you doing here? I can't believe..._her eyes saw something they hadn't before. _Hang on. Are you...bleeding?_ All the dragonling could do was go to her feet and collapse. She gave a worried smile. _Looks like you've been through enough._ She reached out and touched the wound, scarlet blood still very fresh.

Aiedail sat back up. She raised her blooded finger. Eragon looked up from his food, confusion written clearly on his face. "I cut my leg on something." She lied. Eragon looked up from his plate.

"I could heal…ahh…" he stopped in mid-sentence, probably remembering what happened last time he tried to heal her. She grinned as he reached into a bag, pulling out a big cloth bandage. Aiedail looked down at the little dragon. It was exhausted, its tail curled around her feet. She hoped it was exhausted enough as to not put up a fight with the bandage.

She took the bandage gratefully, giving Eragon a sweet smile. Then she looked at the little beast, purring as it slept by her foot. Its green scales, for the moment, seemed so brittle. Like clay, gouged into little green ringlets. Deep, fang-shaped holes cut into its shoulder, drizzling soft tissue and a river of blood out onto the clean marble floors. She softly put the bandage on, knowing she couldn't clean it till she got back. She could only pray infection hadn't set in yet. The little dragonling grunted in pain, but was too tired to try to fight her off.

As she finished, she took note of a little blood shrouding its muzzle. She wondered for a moment where it came from. But just as suddenly she decided she didn't want to know.

Sitting up, she decided to make her plan. She felt she could probably trust Eragon with its existence, but didn't like the idea of him knowing so much more about her dragon then she did.

"I was thinking this morning, Eragon," she began, "and I realized I've been around dragons all my life, but never really know much truly about them. How long have they been in Alagaesia anyway? How did the Riders start? How are the Riders chosen? When do dragons mature? When can they fly or breathe fire?"

Eragon grinned. "So full of questions. Well, I guess I'll start with the first thing. The stories tell us that dragons and dwarves were the first living being in Alagaesia…" he began.

She was unable to hold her mouth. "Dwarves? You mean…they're real?" realizing what she'd done, she quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. I just have never known…"

"No, it was a fair question. Yes, they do exist. I actually have some close friends who are dwarves. But I'll tell you about that another time… as I was saying, dragons and dwarves were the first known and only true Alagaesians. The rest came from other lands. When elves first came to Alagaesia, they made a terrible mistake…" Aiedail gave a confused look. She rarely heard of elves making mistakes. Eragon went on to tell her about the Dragon Wars. To say what finally brought peace. Every little detail she'd never heard.

And he went on to explain dragon anatomy. When the breathed fire. How the mated. Even going as far as to explain the dynamics of how they flew. He told of a dragon's weak points and such. And she finally understood why and how her hatchling got hurt. Whatever had caught it had clearly hit the babe in just the right place. He explained about wild dragons and tame dragons and their difference.

And then he went into detail about the things she needed to know then and there. She learned what the icy blast was about and how dragons picked their riders. She smiled at the fact that out of everyone her dragon had ever came into contact with, she was the one it picked. She learned how to help them learn to talk; how they picked their names.

Then, as if reading her mind to find out what she needed to know, Eragon said, "And you know, there are only four known dragons left in this world. All are hatched but one. From what I hear, it's a boy." She couldn't keep the grin off her face.

Suddenly, the stories ended and there was quiet. Eragon looked down at a small serving of a strange, exotic fruit on it and began to eat. Aiedail just sat there, digesting her food along with what she'd heard. Finally, her sense of time came back and she realized hours had flown by. Beneath her, the hatchling stirred in his dreams. One little green eye flickered open. He opened his mouth to peep, till his rider caught him, muffling the sound.

Anxiously, she grabbed him and wrapped him in a blanket she had handy, reaching out to his mind. _Not a sound. You are to follow when I send a man with a cart in. Jump on and when he comes out; I'll distract him while you climb out. Got it? Till then, stay beneath the table. I don't really want him seeing you… _

She stood up, watching for his little green eyes, praying he understood. Tip-toeing to the door, all she could do was hope a preoccupied Eragon wouldn't notice her leave. She was almost at the door when he spoke.

"Forgetting something?" he held out something, hidden by the shadows. She walked back over to him, trying to tell what it was. Finally, her eyes saw what they needed to.

"Dre'gui?" she asked, trying to still act puzzled. He wasn't buying it.

"Yes, I think the sword has found its owner," He said with a smirk. She reached out with her left hand to graze the beautiful blade, still hoping in vain it wasn't for what it should be.

With lightning fast reflexes, Eragon twisted her palm to the light, revealing a silvery mark. He hissed into her ear. "Dragon Rider."

**Actually really glad with how it is now. I tried to make the scenes as original as possible. I don't really want this dragon's hatching to be anywhere close to Saphira's. He is so different in so many ways as you are going to find out. As is his rider. Oh and don't worry. I never intended on turning him into a her. I think that is so played out. Why not follow it the way CP set it up? That's about all I have for you. Feel free to ask any reasonable questions you have for me. Or give me suggestions. I get a better idea by the day of how I want to set this up. Till I write again. **

**Review!**


	29. Pressure

**Hey guys!**

**I'm getting a little peeved still. Day after day, I've gotten like dozens of things favoriting this story or my pen name and yet i don't get as many comments as I have fans. And I am giving you little free-loader a little warning here. I really need more imput if I am to keep this story up well. And well, if it continues, you may just have to wait till summer to get too much more b/c I am not really wanting to keep up a story that no one's going read. And don't worry, if you know me personally, I'll still send you updates and stuff. **

**So there that is. But I do have some news about what I am expecting to do with this. Although Paolini said the third book was coming out next year, in order to be anywhere close to on time with this story, I'm going to try to get at least one chapter done every 2 weeks. I'm aiming for around C****hritmas this year. But I suppose you've had enough of my ranting.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

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From under the table, there came a low growl. Before Eragon could react or Aiedail could call it off, the little dragon launched itself at Eragon, scratching and biting him. As it was far too little to do much damage, Eragon simply smile in amusement. A little blood trickled down his leg as it was repetitively gouged by the fighting youngster. The little dragonling had never met anyone who had that little of a reaction to being hurt. Of course, he'd hardly even met anyone.

Mortified, Aiedail snatched up her dragon, his little claws still slashing and jaws still trying to clamp onto Eragon. He tried to push out of her arms, struggling and snarling to reach his adversary. He beat his tail at Eragon in anger, one sign wild dragons used as a warning. She gave him a firm smack on the head and turned away; trying to reach his savage little mind to tell him his behavior was unacceptable. He continued to block her out, desperate still to finish his battle. He swung his head over her shoulders, reaching back to try and get at Eragon. Finally, she had enough.

"Stop!" she yelled sternly. He continued to struggle, but her yelling was enough for her to be able to get in his head.

Thoughts rushed around. Emotions surged through her. Protection. Loyalty. Anger. Fear. Especially a savage, wild desire for blood. She sent him calming images, trying to make him relax before she would yell at him. But every image she sent was sent right back, showing how he saw it at that moment.

A lake, serene and calm, absolute silence, with gentle animals gathering on the shoreline was replaced by a bloody hurricane, animals from the lake being tossed from shore to shore in a matter of seconds. A breezy field with blue skies above replaced by a field on fire with ash and smoke darkened skies. White puffy clouds replaced by black harsh ones. A beautiful mountain scene with a small town nestled at base replaced by a volcano, people from the village running around screaming as molten rock gushed from its tip. He rejected them all, fighting her till she ran out of ideas.

But then, off a wild thought, she sent him one last image. The second it reached its destination, his mind softened a little. It was the gardens of Surda, with its crystal pools and water falls. With its stepping stones and flowers. Bees and humming birds and butterflies. Slowly, his body wriggled less and less. He no longer slashed or bit the air. And the warning beating of his tail turned into a soft thrum following the endless drone of the waterfall.

She put him down softly, keeping the image in his mind while she explained. _Eragon is our friend. There's no need to hurt him. He's our friend._ She assured him. She started to fade the image. The dragon didn't move so she continued, slowly weaning him off the scene. Eventually she was able to turn and face Eragon. What she saw startled her at first.

Saphira lay on the floor, curled up around her sitting rider; his leg healed. They seemed to be talking, but when Eragon realized they had eyes on them, he cut the conversation short.

"I see you two are back. You have a nice talk?" he said, a grin on his face.

"Not much of a talk. He would let me in for so long…" she answered, brushing back her messed up hair. She now saw that she had light gashes, up and down her forearm. The little dragon cowered behind her, mollified by what he did to her arm.

"Well, you did better then I expected. I thought you'd be out for twice that time, with you having told him to stay and him not listening at all." He grinned at her shocked expression. "Doesn't listen, does he? Well, we'll have to work on that." He grabbed an apple off the table.

"How did you…" As he took a bite, he held out his hand, signaling for her to stop. Only once he had swallowed, he spoke.

"You don't really know how to guard your conversations yet. It's no secret to anyone who knows how to mind speak what you told him. Yet another thing we're going to have to work on."

"But how did you know he was even here?" her eyes spoke of true confusion.

"Simple. I can feel every life form in vicinity where ever I go. Felt something like Saphira's life form in the castle and followed it right to your door. He's not exactly invisible, you know. Even if he is still tiny."

"So everything you expected."

"Well, not exactly. But I did have a general idea of what you'd do. I hid Saphira much longer, trust me." Saphira gave a toothy grin, though trying to look friendly, though all she managed to do was scared the little dragon. And why shouldn't he be afraid when his whole body was smaller then her teeth still!

He cowered behind his rider instead. She stepped aside, attempting to encourage the youngster to be brave and say hi. But he dashed back behind her, still feeling quite mouse-like next to the older she-dragon.

"Sorry. He's still kind of skittish." She said to Saphira, glaring her dragonling out of the corner of her eye.

_It's okay. In a short while, I won't seem so big to him. He'll grow fast. _She answered sweetly. Then she crouched down, meeting him at eye level, head resting on the floor. _I'm not going to hurt you._ She cooed softly, respectfully blowing softly on his face as a submissive sign. Still unconvinced, the little dragon made the smallest motion to move to her. Not more then a hairsbreadth, but still progress. She repeated her actions, this time saying her vow in the ancient language. Though still not truly understanding what she was saying to him, he some how…did.

Tentatively, the little dragon first stretched out one foot, then the other, stepping slowly but surely into the golden light. The second he was out of the shadows, green reflections danced on the walls; meshing with the blue ones Saphira's scales made and in so doing creating a beautiful, gemmed look on the walls.

The dragonling sat on his little haunches, looking up at Saphira like a cowering, frightened dog. Eragon smiled at his expression, and then turned his attention back to Aiedail.

"So, I have a question for you, Aiedail, now. Where did he come from?" Eragon looked deep into her eyes. There was no way of lying to him, she could see.

"I'm not really…wait. I think I remember something." She paused for a second. Could that really have been it? "I think I know what happened. Murtagh had to have snuck him into my bag. He must have known I'd be leaving weeks before I did."

"Why would he do that?" Eragon's voiced slowly trailed off, like he was deep in thought.

"Murtagh's not all bad, you know Eragon. He's just, messed up…" She assured him. His expression seemed at a loss. She could see the sourness on his face form the mere mention of his name, as if it was unfit for any conversation.

"That doesn't excuse what he's done." He answered in a cold, detached voice.

"What are you saying? He's your brother!" she said, not meaning Th last part to come out so loud. He gave her the coldest, evilest stare. Suddenly the whole conversation had went flatter then bread missing yeast. Saphira gave a low growl at Aiedail's outburst. The young dragon, broken out of his little shell, growled right back and she glared at him. But he sat defiantly, looking into her face without fear or remorse.

Finally, Aiedail spoke. "Come on, Eragon. At least he's trying. I would be here if he wasn't. I'd be…" her voice faded, unwilling to say the rest. Eragon gave a grim nod.

"How about we lay off that? At least for today. I mean, you're the last rider and you're here on our side. How much more can I ask for?" he gave her a smile, but masked behind it, she could still feel his body tensed up, still in thought about it.

"Ya." She answered back, dazed and a bit detached. "What exactly is going to happen to me?" her voice trembled a little. Eragon looked her over; afraid her sickness from that last night hadn't completely washed over her. But as he did, he saw one thing he didn't expect.

Fear

He gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back, but it was still there. He put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't worry Aiedail. I'll walk you through it all. You'll have someone with you who can help you the way I never had someone. At least at the beginning."

She turned away from him, walking over to a portrait on the wall. It depicted the last major battle of the war. The same war they were still in now. The last battle where dragon riders were still seen on the fields, ready to exploit their unfair advantages. Her hand graced the violent picture, tracing the outline of a dying blue dragon with its rider near by, screaming in pain. She cringed a little.

"Eragon, you don't understand. That man I killed…I just can't stop thinking about it. His eyes. I can see them all the time, watching me. It won't get any better when I am a rider. And don't tell me it will. I never want to do something like that again. Not ever." She looked down, eyes gushing out tears. She choked out her words, doing the best she could to look strong. Here she was talking to probably one of the most powerful people in Alagaesia at the moment, and she was almost in tears.

She looked back up at the painting. How much the artist had known. Above the bloody scene, the sky was mockingly beautiful, embers from dragon mouths merely serving to fleck the deep purple sky with glowing red stars. Even smoke and evaporating blood from the scene billowed into the sky, only helping it be more beautiful.

"Don't tell me that, Eragon. Don't even try to tell me the Varden or the Empire or both won't want me to fight. Even if I flatly refuse." She rested her head on the cold stone, hoping to hide her tears from the great rider.

Before she even knew it, she could feel warmth beside her and turned to see Eragon's intense brown eyes staring into hers. "Aiedail. It's hard. I know. Only a short while ago, I was here. I was the one confused. You want a reason as for the fighting, follow me."

"But what about his?" she gestured to the dragonling, who's low attention span was showing as he danced around, chasing his shadow with a twinkle in his eye.

"Saphira will take care of him. She'll take him back to my room." He said, walking towards the door.

"But what if he's seen?" Her question was answered a second later, as Eragon walking over to a rather plain looking rug. He pushed it aside to reveal a massive door, big enough for something bigger then Saphira even to squeeze in. He opened it.

"This tunnel leads everywhere in the castle. It's a life saver sometimes, but it can be a pain." Eragon explained. "No one'll ever know he's even here."

"But-"

_Don't worry, young rider. I've got him. _Saphira said as she swished past, the dragonling daintily hanging from her massive jaws. She entered the dark tunnel, slowly disappearing in the dark. She felt a little apprehension as the tip of her tail slipped into the dark, but she knew she had to ignore him for now and follow Eragon.

Miles on miles of rolling field spread out before them. In the bright light of noon, the distant sea sparkled like a silvery dragon's hide after being polished to perfection. The salty smell on the air carried to her nose, stinging it slightly. Directly bellow her, the city lay, every building carved into the ground with the daintiest precision. Children played games in the streets, darting among the buildings, as their mothers watched from a distance. The marketplace was at its most packed, stuffed with indiscriminant faces, busy with the daily task of bargaining for the things that kept them alive. Everything was the same as she'd seen all her life in the marketplace of Uru'baen. Accept one thing. Their faces were overwhelmingly welcoming, smiling at even the shyest being midst the crowd. From the roof, even, every one of these things stood out like a soar thumb.

"You get it yet?" Eragon asked, facing the horizon. He watched the land bellow him even as he spoke.

"Get what?" she asked back, puzzled.

"You see all then bellow us?" he turned toward her for a fraction of a second to see her nod before returning his attention to the horizon. "Beautiful, isn't it. Close your eyes and imagine for a moment. What would happen if you let someone like the man you killed, intending on killing you mind you, take over?" he asked.

Her eyes saw Uru'baen. A beautiful city, it was true. But those smiles were gone. And it wasn't all beautiful. No city could be, it was true. But she could see the ever burning buildings, still burning as a testimony of the First Attack. Or "Reconfiguration" as the Rider King had called it. She tried to picture a shroud like that falling over Aberon and a chill went down her spine.

"War is not about the amount of blood you spill. It's about the amount of blood you save. The amount of freedom you create. We want them all to see it, Aiedail. We want our brothers and sisters and sons and daughters to be able to see it like this, Aiedail. And I don't know about you, but for that, I'll fight for." The look on his eyes became a little bit distant, sending chills down her spine again.

Suddenly, Eragon stiffened. He flew to his feet and took off, not even bothering to use the stairs. As he jumped of the roof, a piercing alarm sounded. The sound of arrows on the wind caught their ears.

The streets below were broken by a black figure, jostling through the crowd as a troop of panicked soldiers chased after the figure.

Aiedail opened her mind, trying to figure out what was going on.

Saphira's faint, panicked voice was all she could hear:

_Help me!_

_

* * *

_

**Hope you liked my little cliff hanger, there. Well, if you don't want to be hanging there till June, just press that little review button. If no one gives me any critsim, constructive or otherwise, or even just the occational good work or something, I'm really going to just give up on posting it. Doesn't mean I won't write it. But I'm certainly not going to go off and tell you bout it. So please,**

**Review!**


	30. Chip on her shoulder

Eragon raced through the halls, his mind spinning

Eragon raced through the halls; his head spinning. Everyone was in chaos, not even sure what was going on. The muddled crowd of nobles, servants, and palace people was so thick; it seemed there was an endless sea of faces.

But he had to get to his room now! Saphira and the dragonling's lives could depend on it! Even one second could make a difference now. He cut through the crowds of surprised people. They moved aside like lost sheep, going whichever way the shepherd pushed them. Still, the going was slow and painful. Eragon didn't even want to think about anything else but his endangered dragon. But it was hard not too.

Strange things prodded his side, trying to cut at his skin and random bodies smashed against him, pushing him back. He hadn't felt this claustrophobic in forever. The crowd seemed to be pushing the opposite way; away from his room and towards the palace exit. They slowed the going and soon Eragon became disoriented. But he couldn't waste time! He quickly assessed where most were coming from; most likely the palace rooms. He jumped up, seeing a towering staircase twenty feet to his left.

The see of face and the smells of the crowd befuddled his frantic mind and soon he could feel his body tiring. Soon, there may be no chance for his poor dragon. With one final push, he rammed the crowd, going several feet forward. Here the crowd was less dense and he managed to break out with only no time to spare. Behind him, Aiedail follow, confused and frightened. The crowd pushed her back. But she persisted forward, with far less strength or stamina.

But he couldn't stop. Not even for her. He raced though the all too familiar corridors, going as fast as possible with out missing or passing any turns. Now was not the time to get lost, nor take a wrong turn for even a second.

Soon he made it to his door. Wasting no time, he yanked it open to reveal turmoil within. Everything was tossed around and it faintly smelled of smoke. Nothing seemed to be missing on first glance; except for the giant dragon usually in the center!

_Where are you Saphira?_ He called out frantically over their link, dismayed to find it not there.

"Saphira?" he called out gently aloud, unsure there was even anyone to answer. As if on cue, he heard a soft, moping growl from beneath him. He removed the rug and opened the door.

To his relief, Saphira lay curled up around a tiny, wriggling, and scaly green blob. "You're both alright." But Saphira still didn't respond. The little dragonling struggled under her claws, stirring and attempting to get free.

Eragon could feel their mental link was dead. Her mind wasn't even there. And there was something…hostile in her eyes. Their blue hue was harsh, icy. Bloodlust shone through her eyes. She gave a low growl, as if defending the hatchling from her own Rider. He backed off, dumbfound. What had happened to her in the time he was gone? Her tail drummed a warning dance to him, daring him to come closer. Her body swaying from side to side, readying for a fight. All her body postures were cruel, hostile. Opposite of the Saphira he'd seen twenty minutes ago.

He took another step back and she quieted; her teeth still bore out at him. Like he was her enemy. He figured it be best just to stay still, wait for her to make a move. He seemed to be making progress, the dragon lowering her head to the floor.

At that moment, the door burst open to reveal a frantic Aiedail. Relief danced into her eyes as she saw her dragon; he started struggling wildly as he felt her. It was obvious to Eragon their link was unharmed. But why, then, was Saphira behaving so strange?

"I was so worried. What happened?" She said, quickly moving towards Saphira's side. Her motions were sudden, disarmed, _disrespectful_. Saphira began to sway again…

Eragon tried to warn her. "Aiedail, stop!" he yelled, but he was too late. As she turned to give him a questioning look, Saphira rose on her hind legs; towering above them. Her deep wings unfrilled; her head scraping the ceiling. She blocked all light but that of the open doors; fire flaring from the slits in her nose. It gave her blue scales a menacing, blacked appearance. Her teeth bore fully, ready for a fight. Every edge on her body was sharp. Even the softish gold of her underbelly seemed to be steal. She thrummed her tail and flapped her wings. She gave a deep monstrous growl from the pit of her core; Aiedail finally aware of the danger behind her.

Before she could even turn around, Saphira raised her monster claws to the ceiling, scraping it softly, and lunged at Aiedail, striking her hard on the shoulder. Aiedail gave the most unearthly cry and doubled-over into Eragon's arms with the momentum, blood gushing from the fresh gouge on her shoulder. The dragonling behind Saphira howled in unison, attempting to rush to his Rider's side. Saphira snapped her tail in his path, wrapping it around the baby.

Set off by the cry of hatchling, Saphira sent out a torrent of flame. Eragon pushed the dazed and shocked Aiedail over, bringing her to her knees just before the flame gushed overhead. Before she had time for another attack, Eragon smashed Aiedail out the door and quickly followed as well, landing square on her bleeding shoulder by mere chance. She groaned in pain.

Eragon flew up at lightning speed, shutting the door to prevent further attack. He stood for a moment, feeling the beating of Saphira's tail come to a cease and the pained cries of the hatchling becoming the only audible thing.

Sure the danger had passed; Eragon turned his attention to Aiedail and her wounded shoulder. He knew he couldn't heal it, not with last time's disastrous results anyway.

"What happened, Eragon?" Aiedail murmured. "I've never seen her so…wild."

"Neither have I." Eragon answered. The worst experience he'd had with her was nothing compared with this. Then she'd still let him in. Well, eventually. But right now, they had no link. It was as if Saphira'd gone…wild…She would have killed them without a second glance. He could see it in her eye. But what could have done this? He got a feeling it had a lot to do with the attack.

Aiedail's soft groan bought his focus back to the most pressing issue. How do you help an elf whose body attacks you every time you've tried to before? She seemed dazed as the pool of blood grew on the floor.

"Somebody get some help over here!" He yelled, not sure anyone would actually hear him. Between the pained peeping of the distressed hatchling behind him to the attack causing everyone to leave this area, he wasn't sure anyone could come; much less would to save someone.

Luckily, a guard rounded the corner that moment. He took one look at her and then the mighty rider and suddenly there was an expression of solemn embarrassment on his face. Little had Eragon known this was the same man who, on the day Aiedail had first came to Aberon, given her grief about her appearance and such. Almost struck her, as-a-matter-of-fact.

He came to her side quickly and he helped support her while Eragon wrapped it in her busted-up sleeves. As he held her, he could help but notice the silver mark on her palm. This wrench was the final Rider? Eragon's sharp gazed caught where his eyes rested.

"You are not to say anything, am I clear?" Eragon growled, pulling the bandage tight. From behind the door, the peeping intensified a bit as Aiedail let out a groan.

"Yes, Argetlam." He said firmly.

"I mean it. I will hunt you down so fast if you say a word." He threatened. The man looked in disbelief.

Aiedail stirred uneasily as Eragon tried to figure out what to do. He had far to many other things to worry about this. But since she was here and hurt, he needed to deal with her right now. He gently swept her up into his arms, the guard helping secure her wounded shoulder. He could hear the baby dragon's frantic peeping as he tried to get to her side and a loud, warning hough came from Saphira.

"I can take it from here." He said softly, so not to set his dragon into another frenzy. Her tail started to beat a soft warning dance in response to the sound.

The man glance at the door, as if somehow seeing the danger behind it. He lowered his voice, barely audible through the dragonling's soft cries. "Do you want me to go ahead, prepare the infirmary for her arrival?" he asked.

"No, I can't trust her with them. She needs expert care." He said. It was time to pay Angela another visit.

He looked at the weakened elf girl and then at the Rider before finally taking off as Saphira houghed again. Eragon silently moved away, careful even with Aiedail's weight not to give Saphira cause for another freak out.

A sole candle burned, cutting through the thick darkness. In the darkness, the shape of a girl silhouetted in the thick dark sat. Despite her snow white complexion, her figure was well shrouded. It was almost as if some curse flicked off the candlelight, bouncing it back to oblivion. Her jet black hair deeply contrasted her large, bright purple eyes. Bangs hid a star shaped scar, the only thing that caught the light as she turned. Her thin lips curled up into a smile.

"Eragon's coming." She said. Her voice was cool and crisp and seemed to belong to someone way beyond her years. From the candle lit desk, there came a sigh. A woman at the desk scowled.

"You knew that, didn't you?"

"Months in advance." The girl replied. "Saphira attacked Aiedail." The woman gave her a puzzled look.

"Wha-oh never mind. You never know the whys, do you?"

"Nope. Only fact and not." The girl answered, seeming to enjoy seeing the woman flustered.

The woman let out another annoyed sigh. She got up, moving to the door faster then her slightly anemic face entailed she could. At the door, a young man with an even younger girl in his arms stood, just about to knock. The girl's shoulder was bandaged with a crude piece of cloth, her face filled with the anguish of her wound. She ushered him in, allowing him to place the girl on a plain, grey bed.

She was conscious, but it would be better if she wasn't. She was about to murmur the spell which could put her out, till Eragon suddenly grabbed her arm and shook his head.

"No," he said. "No magic on her. She has a condition where she no one can heal her."

"Ahh so a very young one then." She said. "I've got just the thing." She shuffled to her desk side and pulled out a small vile of viscous liquid. As she damped her cloth with it, Eragon wondered if anyone didn't know that elves couldn't control their powers. Every healer had said just what he'd found out the hard way. Annoyed, he returned his attention to Aiedail's wounds.

He carefully unbound the wound and was a bit surprised. The skin on a young elf, a healer had claimed, would heal itself. But it hadn't even began. He grimaced at the wound, shock and surprise soaking through like the blood through the cloth. As Angela approached the bed, a similar look mirrored on her face.

Within seconds she recovered and did what Angela always did best. Shooing people away. "Go, right now. Don't you have a pair of dragons to attend to?"

"How did you-"

"Never mind that now. Go and find out what's wrong with your girl."

**Okay dudes. I know what you are probably thinking. I waited this long for such a dinky chapter? But hear me out. I had 0 inspiration on this for a while. I think part of my writing brain went snap. I am actually pretty proud of how it turned out. For being such a dinky chapter, it is going to be quite useful…you'll see what I mean…**


	31. Fury of a dragon

As Eragon round the bend, his eyes were greeted by a strange, yet alarming sight

As Eragon round the bend, his eyes were greeted by an alarming sight. The ground was drenched in blood, most of it looked fresh; the deep, reddish rust liquid splattered across the walls. Pressed against his door was several soldiers clad in metal armor, drenched in sweat; each shuddering in turn as the door was rammed by an unseen force. A small chipped piece of the door glimpsed glowing blue scales beyond. A deep deafening roar resonated through the halls, harmonizing with the shudders of the door, grunts of the men, and loud, steady beating from beyond the door.

Eragon rushed to his door, murmuring enchantments to put the dragon beyond asleep. She growled and hissed as she felt his presence, as though he still could do no more with her then a wild bear. A really big, really dangerous blue-scaled bear which spits out fire. She fought his magic, the battle slowly sucking away his energy. He grunted and held strong, only willing to give up just before he'd lose consciousness.

"What happened?" He yelled over the torrent of noises.

"A guard heard something inside. He thought she was hurt after the attack. He didn't know what hit 'im; she got a nice hunk of his leg. Had to rip him from her and smash the door shut. Been like this ever since." A guard answered, his voice just as loud. He grunted as he pushed all his strength into holding the door.

"Try to distract her. All I need is two seconds and she'll be out cold." He yelled back. Not all the guards heard, and even less of them truly understood what Eragon was planning, but as if on cue, they all let go at once.

No sooner then when they had gotten away did the door come flying open, a surprised roar tearing from Saphira's scaly lips. Eragon rushed her with power, and for a moment, it almost worked. She shuddered as the magic tried to take hold of her. But the gap in the dragon's defenses was clearly short-lived as she shook off the drowsiness; she stood up to full height, towering above everything and everyone. Her gaze instantly turned to Eragon, bloodlust and murder in her eyes.

She was just about to jut out another deafening roar when there came a peeping from behind her, distracting her from her task. The little green hatchling mewed in dismay as Saphira turned to his rescuers. Saphira slashed her diamond-hard nails at the men, who feebly drew their swords; gingerly bouncing off her claws.

Instantly, she lunged again. They weakly defended themselves, swords flailing like they were cave men. The clank of metal on nail echoed through the normally serene scene. A few nobles stumble upon the scene, only to dash away to tell some official. The men struggled against the she-dragon's great strength. They couldn't last much longer…

Eragon gathered himself up. He'd have one chance to do this right…

He quickly counted every spike running up her tail, till he saw what he needed. The tenth spike. He started towards her slowly, careful not to make a sound; the guards desperate to distract her from what was really happening behind her.

Suddenly, one of the guards stumbled. His weakened defense was swiftly taken advantage of; with on swift motion of her tail, Saphira knocked him off his feet and sending him flying towards Eragon like a projectile. With inhuman swiftness, Eragon snapped down. Saphira turned and snorted at her handy work, till she spotted Eragon close to her tail. Registering what he was trying to do, she turned fully to him.

A deep, unearthly fire in her eyes, she dashed for him. Even the dragonling's frantic cries of warning to him were unable to distract her. There was a hatred in those blue eyes; an iciness like no other. Her blooded claws swung at him, missing his chest by a hair's breath. She gave an out raged roar and sent a torrent of a-thousand-degree flame at her rider.

"I don't want to hurt you Saphira!" Eragon cried, the flames licking his clothes and singling his hair. The heat was intensely unbearable, drying the blood on his clothes. It cracked on his hands, turning them a deep, more permanent shade of red. He somersaulted under the flames, rolling into a corner.

Saphira moved on him, determined to keep him cornered. Her lithe neck slung towards him, teeth snapping at him; she caught his left leg, sinking deep into his leg. Eragon cried out as Saphira released him, whimpering as the pain coursed through her as well. He doubled over in pain as the dragon scanned her legs for the source of the pain. Finding none, she turned her attention back to the fallen rider.

Eragon crawled on his hands and knees, blood draining from his body. The muscles in his left leg were shot, leaving it to drag behind him as dead weight. Shaking her head violently, Saphira whipped her tail at him, smashing his form against the wall. Eragon coughed up blood onto her tail, his lungs straining to breathe. She seemed equally winded, and confused as to why. He struggled to move, but her bulk easily deflected his desperate fighting. She let her wings billow out gracefully, triumphantly waving at her fallen opponent.

He smeared his blood on his neck, hoping to use it as a grease to move out of her grip. He desperately pushed up. When she saw what he was doing, she grabbed him with her talons to grip him better, still holding him against the wall as she withdrew her long tail. Her nails caught his clothes and skin, ensnaring him like a clamp trap would a rabbit. Her claws grated his bones, blood trickling from the fresh wounds. She shifted her legs, straightening out; aligning her body to put move force and control on his weakened form.

With no way to get free, he looked up; straight into her blue eyes. She gazed right back at him defiantly, no fear or remorse or even pity in her eyes. They stared into each other's eyes for the longest time, till it was one hundred percent clear how she wanted to end this.

She was going to kill him.

She gave another bellow as he looked away submissively. His strength zapped, he could do no more but sit and wait. Wait to live. Wait to die. Wait for an end, that wouldn't come easily.

He closed his eyes and wondered what happens when you die. Do you just fade into nothingness or is there really anything beyond? Was there really a glorious kingdom, anywhere, for the dead or was it all just rumors? The misplaced hope of ancient times.

What ever happened, he had always had the comfort of knowing when that happened, Saphira would be with him.

He'd long had visions of the pair lying on the battlefield, too weak to carry on. Dead enemies, sometimes including Murtagh and Thorn, others not, lying all around them; testifying to a noble fight. Wounds scathing their bodies, some simply little nicks, other beyond repair. Her whole body wrapped around his protectively, even in death. Her bloody head curled towards his as they drew their final breaths, spent on fighting for their dream. Together. At long last and forever. Their lives ended with a soft conversation talking of the past and all the lost dreams of the future; of regrets and final apologies to each other.

Sometimes, Eragon could seem them falling as they fought Murtagh or Galbatorix or both, always gallantly giving one final lunge at their opponents before their enemy launched the ending blow. Sometimes, they got there and slew them just as they were to draw their last breathes, other times not; but either way, there was always one pair of last lines he could see them saying. _I love you, little one._ She'd say. _I love you too._ He'd always answered as they rushed upon their doom.

But never this…they were meant to die together, not kill each other. She was part of him. And it him hard, her betrayal. And here, in his final moments, he could even say goodbye…his breath stifled away and her mind unable to connect with his.

He still could try to think it. _I love you, Saphira._ He thought as she prepared to end his life.

Suddenly, with a terrible cry, the pressure dropped from his chest, her nails falling lifelessly from his chest. He opened his eyes to see her claws at his feet. Her whole form was collapsed, though her icy blue eyes still glared out at him. She bellowed in dismay as his eyes took in the feline form of his rescuer.

He knew her straight away as she turned to face him, her hand pushing down on her tenth spike. Her full, wine lips murmured a few soft words, putting the dragon to sleep at long last. Her emerald eyes looked at him in concern, eying the blood dripping down his leg. She moved to him silently, her ebony hair swishing behind her back like a raven in flight.

"Don't move." She said softly in her musical, Elven voice. It brought back a pang of rejection in his heart and he averted her gaze. She frowned, but placed her hands over his wounds and whispered the words to heal them never the less.

"Thanks, Arya." He said. Though he was grateful, his mouth found it impossible to pit out the normally-added respectful term. He was tongue-tied, so he stayed in silence; his healed leg sending a pleasant tingling up and down its length.

He could feel her gaze on him, shocked he wouldn't look at her. "Eragon, look at me." she said softly.

"Why should I, Arya? You and me both know what'll happen." He said resentfully.

"No." she stuttered, quickly stopping herself. Eragon turned his head. There was something…odd in her eyes. Eragon looked her over. There was a change in her. _Maybe…_ He leaned towards her; she did not move back. As he continued, she almost seemed to move forward herself; till the last second possible when she backed away, shaking.

Eragon sighed. Arya's green eyes rest on the floor, the look gone from her being. Eragon smiled grimly "I was right." He said gently, turning away from her. She made no motion to stop him as he left.

When he was out of earshot, she could feel hot tears falling down her cheeks.


	32. Surprise endings

**Here it is finally. After many nights of working and polishing, Evermore has it's update! Many** **thanks to S.P. Martin. You did get it to flow right. I can't really thank you enough. Maybe all I really needed was a fresh mind to take a look at it...and I got a good one at that... Anyways, I will also be updating my answer page in the next few days. So if you have anything you are dying to ask, now's the time. That or you'll have to wait till I'm crazy enough to update it again on a computer that loves to freeze up...Hopefully the next chapter will come much faster. As you can imagine, when something like that actually happens, I can usually write faster and I want to right more... **

**So with out further adue...**

* * *

In the early morning, a solitary figure tossed around, unable to sleep in the light of the white skies predawn brings. He had never felt more tired, but could not sleep, tossing all night in his bed with worry. Fighting to close his puffy, vein-streaked eyes only made him more tired, but the more he tried, the more awake he became. Finally relenting, he got up to the grim light of the morning. The dawn was dead, without so much as a single birdsong to lift the spirits.

In the last few days, he had never felt so alone. Though a Rider he was, he had not really felt much like one. His dragon was no more than a wild beast, her mind muddled and broken. No one he spoke to could substitute for her; any conversations he held felt dry and empty without her constant commentary.

He could not stop thinking about her –no one could get close enough to her to determine what was wrong. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, as if she were some random animal. Her thoughts had even begun to spread to him, trying to turn him wild like she had become. He reluctantly had to hide from her, avoiding her mind and cutting her out completely.

Still, he could feel the angry reverberations her mind had left as she desperately searched for a way out of her cramped cell. Though she was asleep now, she, with her powerful fire and diamond-strength claws, had left imprints all over the palace, painful reminders of her rampaging furry. He had to sleep in his cousin's quarters, even, since his old ones had been the main site of the attack.

He got up, watching his sleeping cousin. The older boy snored loudly, not stirring a bit as Eragon slung on his clothes. Though Roran could sleep through anything, he still moved to the exit quietly. Due to her wounds, Aiedail's dragon stayed in his room, though not by choice. He knew if the hatchling even began to suspect he was leaving, he would instantly try to battle his way out to go see his Rider. Eragon sat at the door a moment, contemplating waking Roran, but with a baby on the way and a wedding to plan, his cousin had enough to occupy his mind.

He waited too long. In the corner of the room, he heard a small yawn. Instantly he opened the door, trying to leave before the tiny terror was upon him, but he was too slow. Half way out the door, it was upon him. The hatchling smashed into his leg, trying to push him away from the door.

"Not this time, little one." he said, reaching down his hand to push the baby away. The hatchling growled fiercely in response. As soon as his hand was within striking distance, the hatchling slashed at it, clipping his small finger and drawing blood. The hatchling then continued with his attempts at pushing Eragon away, head butting his limb while growling and snarling in a diminutive, evidently young, volume.

"Gah!" he yelled, shaking his hand and hissing an oath. He held his wound up to examine it. A drop of blood had gathered around a long scratch. He frowned, and then whispered towards the still belligerent hatchling, "Siesiot." Instantly, the baby collapsed where he stood.

This was the fifth time he had to use magic to calm the hatchling. The young little lizard just did not get the situation and was quick to react, but rash in reasoning. He'd seen Aiedail once, and when Eragon came to collect him, three grown, competent soldiers couldn't rip him away from his torso. Finally, Eragon managed to rip him away, in the process forever ruining a fine tunic that now lay in some forgotten corner with four long gashes torn in its fabric. Nevertheless, the whole way back to the room, the hatchling had struggled so badly, Eragon eventually had to put him to sleep. Using so much magic on the hatchling was dangerous, but according to Angela, it was more so to leave him with her.

Eragon picked the hatchling up, marveling at his growth. He had gotten larger than Saphira had in the short period he'd been out of his shell. Already as big as a large dog, if his growth rate continued rapidly, he would soon pass even the largest of horses. Plus, the hatchling had rapidly started growing thick, sturdy muscles that corded his limbs, chest, neck, and underbelly. If every male was like him, it was no wonder Thorn had been nearly as big as Saphira the first time the two belligerents met. Heck, the hatchling already weighed a quarter of what Eragon weighed. If he kept on like this, soon he would become difficult, and then impossible, to carry.

He laid the hatchling on his bed. "Sorry," he whispered. "She's not ready..." He found it truly cruel, separating the two. The first weeks were crucial for bonding, though Eragon wasn't sure how much more bonded the hatchling could get. He was worse than Saphira...

Saphira...

He left without sparing another moment, knowing the spell he had used was but temporary and had less effect on those with magical abilities, especially dragons.

Shutting the door silently, he breathed a sigh of relief. The halls were barren at this hour, so no one had seen the dragon fighting. It was bad enough, having half the palace whispering that there was something ghastly happening with the Varden's only hope –he did not need them knowing that the last rider was found, or that she was the one who was wounded. Nevertheless, with no one there, it only added to the deep-rooted, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It only got worse as he went, slowly nearing his room. It was hard not to see the wild lines of black streaking the floor, the crumpled tiles, or the indentations on the floor. At the very least, though, the blood had been cleaned up and the worst of the damage hidden behind a newly installed door.

He quickly slipped passed the sight, not wanting to take any of it in or pause to gawk for a second. The charred and broken halls haunted him still until he was out of sight of them, memories of the time he had to battle his own dragon resurfacing and threatening to pull him down horrifically into the darker portions of his own mind.

Taking a turn around the next bend, he neared his destination. Freshly made of thick stone, the tower stood out easily against the alabaster sky. Two small windows about midway from each other illuminated the path, one facing the sea and the other overseeing the road. The tower itself was made of smoky black rock. At its top was a special lift run by magic, the sole constituent of a means to get down to the lookout pad overlooking the massive sapphire dragon held there at current. It was inconvenient at times, but it kept nosy nobles and the prying eyes of the unimportant out of the way. From the top of the shaft, normal eyes could see nothing of the dragon below.

The men and Eragon had tried three other methods before to contain the dragon; each doomed to end in disaster if not for the quick work of magicians. Each new idea took away from their accessibility, but kept her under control longer. Eventually, they came up with the current idea, and she had yet to escape.

He raced up the stairs, his Elvin endurance making eliminating the necessity of pausing for breath as he scaled the four hundred stairs to the top. This was the safest place, though the tower itself was carefully enchanted, each stone enforced more carefully than the finest armor.

From the top of the tower, he looked down past thick crystal glass and sturdy iron bars to the stone-lined bottom. As the first marvelous, unexpected streak of gold and pink erupted across the sky, his sharp eyes caught the glistening sapphire hide of his dragon, her body in a deep, drug-induced sleep.

Each deep breath she took soothed his nerves. She looked normal in these moments, as if nothing had ever happened to her. He stepped onto the elevator, willing it to move with a single word. In his eagerness, his descent was swift, rattling the board below him. There was only so far it would go, of course. Each inch closer to her, the risk became worse and worse, even if it felt safer than any place he could be at that moment. He reached a small, stone platform, about thirty feet above her, and stepped off the lift.

There sat a weary magician, watching her as a final safeguard against her fury. His tired gray-blue eyes seemed to come back to life from exhaustion as they saw Eragon. "Argetlam," he said, a deep relief in his voice as he bowed his head.

"I'm here to relive you of your post," he said with as much authority he could muster.

"But don't you have more you are supposed to be doing right now?" the man asked wearily, evidently clinging to his assignment more than his health.

"I am no help to anyone right now. I can only think about her." He replied, watching her lovingly. The man put up no more argument there, and moved towards the lift with a nod in farewell. As Eragon sat in his chair, the man tiredly made the elevator start. Suddenly, about halfway up, the board broke with an audible crack and dropped towards the ground below. The man above stopped it at the last second, less than a foot above the stone platform. The little board quivered for a moment in the air as the deprived magician caught his breath. Then he began to rise once more, slowly and steadily. At last, he was out of sight.

Eragon saw none of it. His eyes remained fixed on the dragon below. He longed to sneak passed the tinted crystal, through the iron bars to the underground prison she slept in, to feel her warmth again and be with her.

And yet, it was unsafe at this moment. To do such a thing would put both him and, because of their bond, her at risk. He would have to suppress his wants for now, pained though it made him.

He looked through the small window facing the ocean. A crisp breeze echoed through the chamber as the sun began to come up. It rose steadily, changing the predawn colors with those of the regular days as it rose beyond its horizon. Birds began to sing in a sudden, spontaneous chorus, serenading the dawn.

The world went on with its daily activities, though he felt he could not. The birds still sang their songs. The waves still crashed on the shore. Yet, as he looked down at her, it all felt like it should not be this beautiful –not without her. He had spent every day with her for the longest time. Now, she could not even speak to him, even if she wanted to. It was as if he no longer retained the position of being a rider.

Suddenly, he heard a low growl. Below, Saphira tried to stand up, her legs shaking slightly with the effort after the fights. Though her body seemed fragile as a newborn's, the glare she sent his way once she noticed his presence was all too powerful. The hate behind her blue eyes belied what he had known for so long by her side...

Crude chains, each with bare hints of rust, pinned her wings down. Her legs and tail had the same fate, shackled like a mere prisoner. For the safety of the men, the chains had been tightened so that they completely restricted all movement, squeezing the scales underneath to the point where a few had fallen out in some spots. The only maneuverable part of her body was her long neck, though it too had a collar. The men had put a cushion beneath her, none of them knowing how long she would be down there, but she had torn it up with her teeth and sent it to the corner of the cell.

He reached out with his mind, sending her cooling thoughts before terminating the link to prevent her from entering his mind as he gathered her meal. It contained within it a drug which would calm her, keeping her from hurting herself. He murmured a spell as she bombarded his mental defenses, hissing with pent rage at her rider. The meal lowered down to her, passing through the safeguards as if it was a ghost. When it reached the bottom, he dispelled the enchantment. She eagerly ate, devouring each bite ravenously, messily tarnishing her scaled lips and face with blood. When she finished, her long neck reached over to a large watering trough, guzzling down gallons of water. Finally, she rested her head back down, the drug taking effect. Placidly, she yawned.

He watched as she lay there. The drug would keep her temper down and prevent her from breathing fire. It just felt wrong though, leaving her so defenseless, even though otherwise, she might well hurt herself and a few hundred people. And yet, as he observed her, he noticed how the chains, the water trough, and her once again sleeping form looked so much like a freeborn animal cruelly imprisoned for doing naught more than existing.

Time passed strangely, sometimes quickly, as lapsed into thought; when he only stared, Eragon barely knew whether he had been down there an hour or a year. Everything but the sun's position remained constant, its slow movement the only evidence that he want merely standing there for an endless moment.

Everything felt so repetitive that when something else finally happened, Eragon was not sure whether it was real or his mind making things up. It was a soft noise, distantly familiar. Could it be a bird's wings? No, the sound was louder than that. A mouse in the rafters, perhaps? No, further than that. His body could pinpoint the noise coming from a great distance. It was all so familiar, as if its identity was right on the tip of his tongue, yet couldn't be further away.

It grew louder. He then realized it was some sort of footfalls. And there were a lot of them, some louder, stranger than others. He look out the window, hoping to pinpoint its source. Across from him, a terrible sight met his eyes.

A mass of people shuffled by, the members big and small, strong and weak, young and elderly. Maybe twenty people, thirty at most, in all made up the procession. They all had their heads down in defeat, a distinctive lack of radiance or reprieve on their faces. Deep purple bruises spread across their faces, blackening their bloodshot eyes. Many displayed crude bandages covering injuries, some still raw, leaving a red trail wherever they stepped.

Most were in stained rags of clothing, barely wearing enough cloth to cover their skin. Some were limping, hobbling along as the procession grew steadily closer. Nevertheless, for the uneven beat of their feet and the hooves of their horses, they carried on their grim march in a sad silence. Mothers carried their silent babies close to their breasts. Children walked aimlessly along, some alone but all in quiet. Many were leading distraught-looking mules and horses, which carried the dead and dying. Disease and infection had left their spirits low, and a few of them were rot-green in several patches of their skin. He could feel a great sense of relief coming from the crowd as they eyed Aberon.

The group moved with ghastly meaning, leaving a haunting presence to those who spotted them by chance as they drew closer. They continually march along, at a slow, constant pace. As he watched, they made their way to the gate at Aberon. The guards opened the doors to let them in wordlessly, and they spilled out onto the street, moving toward the palace. In the great roads, Eragon sometimes lost sight of them as he followed their slow, shambling progress, but they would always appear along the next bend, keeping with their haunting march. People cleared out of their way like a hot knife clearing its way through butter, cleaving away from them with the same ease a rider would get from them.

Soon they were upon the palace. The doors opened without questioning. They entered. Soon after, the group vanished, invisible from the great tower Eragon sat in. The sight sent a cold chill running down his spine.

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the silence. "Refugees." it said. Eragon had not even to look up to know who it was.

"Arya Svit-kona." he said softly. "Refugees?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Mostly from villages in the North. They're the lucky ones. Many villages near that area have been wiped out completely... Galbatorix has been tearing apart cities, looking for something."

"Looking for... what?" Arya shrugged in answer.

"No one knows..." she paused, looking down at Saphira. Eragon stared at his dragon, wishing he could hear her talk to him. Only she could soothe him. "Eragon, there's... something else."

He looked into her eyes. "What?"

"The refugees... I spoke to one yesterday... He says one person did this... alone." She did not need to go any further.

"Can it be true?" He asked her.

"I think so... Elva herself foretold he had... and he's in pain..."

"About what he's done?" She nodded. "Elva never said anything about him before the refugees, did she?" Arya was silent for a long time before answering.

"She said she could always feel him, a pulsing pain centre, constantly tugging at her. Now it is worse. He is in the greatest pain of nearly anyone in the Empire right now..."

"And he wasn't in that much pain during the Burning Plains."

"Eragon, don't make this about you. He is your brother! Do you not care about him, or his feelings?"

Eragon paused, closing his eyes tightly. Images of their last meeting pulsed through his brain. "It's not that I don't care. I wish I did, but I just can't let it go. I can't forgive him for what he's done."

"You will someday..." Arya murmured. "He is your family."

They both sat together, watching the waves rolling in, occasionally glancing down towards Saphira below. There was a peace between them Eragon had not felt in a long time.

"Can I talk to you about something?" They both said at the same moment. Eragon gave a nervous laugh. "You go first."

"About the other night..." Arya started. "Eragon, I've been meaning to apologize. I just..."

"No," he interrupted her. "I'm the one who needs to apologize." He paused. "I started it. Nothing would have happened otherwise. I... just don't know what to think, who to trust..." He looked down at Saphira, wishing he could have the warmth of her encouragement again.

She shook her head. "No, I have resisted you before. It is not your fault. The other day, I could have shaken it off before you had even thought of it. It's just that... the other day... it was..." her voice caught. For a moment, she was silent. "Years ago, yesterday, it was the first day... the day Faolin first told me..."

Eragon looked her hard. Her whole normally emotionless face was red, stained with streaks where tears had run down her cheeks. He had never seen her cry, but she obviously had. He had not been sure elves even could cry... Why had he not he noticed before now? Had she been crying while she had been there, the whole time?

"I just... I don't know. I really miss him, you know?" She mumbled.

He felt a massive pang of pity for the elf. She had been through something... something he had been through a long time ago. The only difference was that her wounds were still fresh... It just made him feel guiltier, knowing what she had been through and having shunned her for her behavior. It had taken him five years to get over her...

"I... I do." he frowned, memories surging through his mind.

They were both silent for a moment, too caught up in their own thoughts to speak. Finally, Arya spoke. "Nasuada told me she needed you before I came down here... I'll look after Saphira..."

"Thank you, Arya..." He smiled. "For everything..." He turned to the lift. For a second, he looked down, giving Saphira one last, pleading look. "Please get better. I can't do this without you..." he whispered softly.

Without another word or glance backwards, he climbed onto the elevator.

As Eragon moved through the halls, he passed a few nobles. Each bowed respectfully, but there was a different air about them –one Eragon had not felt there since the Varden had just moved in.

Fear. Pure, raw fear.

Even the small attack was capable of bringing it out in them. He stood tall, hoping to give the illusion that he himself was not afraid. Moreover, it worked. They all straightened up, their faces instilled with a new boldness.

Yet, as Eragon continued, he could hear someone coming. Their breath was elevated, moments erratic. He turned to see a young boy rounding the corner. His face was smeared with dirt, his clothes tattered and worn. Some of the seams in his tunic were coming unraveled, and he had to hold his pants to  
keep them up. As he passed Eragon, his nose caught the stench of his unwashed body. But the boy's footing betrayed him, a small patch of slippery flooring sending him to the floor with a crash.

Almost by instinct, Eragon grabbed his collar. The boy's momentum ripped his shirt further and threatened to send both of them toppling to the floor, but Eragon held his feet firmly down. The boy's body bounced back up; Eragon used his other arm to steady him.

"You should be more careful..." he said gently. The boy shook his head, not even looking at Eragon.

"Let me go..." he said, pulling away, but Eragon's vice-like grip kept him still. "You have no right to hold me! I have to go..." he was silent suddenly as he eyed Eragon's face.

"Shur' tugal?" He blinked. Eragon smiled warmly, nodding. "I need to speak with you, please! There's not much time..."

Eragon's smile faded. "Yes, but not here. Come with me." The boy nodded. Eragon lead the boy away, up the stairs, all the way to his cousin's room. He was just about to knock when a dreary Roran stepped out. He smiled groggily at Eragon, letting him and the boy in without question.

He only said, "I'll be back later. I'm going to have breakfast with Katrina." Eragon nodded at his cousin.

As the door shut, Eragon explained, "My room is... under construction. This'll have to do for now..."

"An attack's coming." he said.

"Too late," Eragon answered. "One already came."

"No, bigger. Half the men in every village from here to the top of the Spine are leaving because of a draft. My own village was destroyed in an attempt to convince our men to join. Others suffered the same fate... my father..." he choked up.

Eragon turned away. An attack? Now? What would happen? Half the country was on its way to them? Surda may be a great fortress, but it could never repel that many! A sick feeling welled up in his stomach. Maybe if they had time to bring their allies in... But the dwarves were still arguing over their next leader, and many clans were repelling at every turn. They'd try to make a decision, but without a leader, different clans found strength in them to speak up. Nothing had changed and their people were failing. And the elves had promised their help in the next battle, but there was no way they could get organized on such short notice, much less cross the country, even through the back way! The people of Surda numbered far too little to do a thing to save themselves; their men would be slaughtered and their women taken for slaves within a day. He shook in shock. They would have to leave. They were too weak, too small in numbers here.

"There's more." Eragon looked back. "There are rumors... Galbatorix himself is coming..." This sent all his hair to stand up. Two riders? There was no way. Saphira would probably be able to fight; the only problem was she would probably end up killing just as many men of the Varden as she would the Empire. It would be better to keep her where she was. He could still fight, but without her, he wouldn't stand a chance against the two riders. And Aiedail was out, her injuries still bad. Even if she were healed, she was an untrained rider with a dragon who, while he could take on three soldiers alone, had only recently hatched. Also, if any of the other dragons caught him, the hope having another rider brought would be gone. Katrina's pregnancy would keep Roran out almost surely. Everything was in pieces. Galbatorix had picked the worst time. Worst only for themselves...

"How long?"

"They hit Surda in a week." He answered. Eragon swallowed, a massive lump in his throat as a sudden, sinister thought came into his head.

Saphira might have to stay behind...


	33. A way out

**Hey guys. Man, this chapter's been up on my computer for the longest time. It was done before Brisingr came out, but I've had a lot of chaos lately and never remembered to post it till I was looking through my stories today after I posted on my newest work, Apocalypse, a Supernatural fic. And the thing is, with a new episode every Thursday, I have been in a rush to get parts of it out before the actual show dismantles the images I created.**

**On a side note, what do you guys think on Brisingr? I was...disappointed to say the least. I won't ruin it for those of you who haven't read it yet or aren't done, but still. I had hoped, though, that he'd come up with something far more shocking. His vocab and descriptions have improved, but that spark is missing. The esk of innocence. The sense of wonder. I think CP was trying too hard, and his story has been lost in the translation. But enough of my blabbing...**

**Without further a due and before I loose whatever I'm saying, here is "A way out."**

Nausada sighed, gazing at the floor with dismay. Her every moment felt labored and weak; her own limbs seemed to weigh a ton. Her eyes carried more bags than she could. Words of other's seemed to slur. The attack was taxing her, sheer worry alone keeping her up for hours late into the night. Even her clothes and hair seemed worn and ragged, no matter how she tried. And it was becoming difficult to know what was real and what was her tired eyes tricking her once more.

Equally ragged though much better at hiding it, Eragon sat a seat away, listening closely to the proposition but saying nothing and keeping to his own private counsel. He seemed in the best condition of everyone, though Nasuada had no idea if this was because he really was relaxed or if his features just hid him better.

Her thoughts were suddenly lost in the drone of her headache. She looked opposite her at Orrin. He too seemed unusually quiet. Like her, he was worn out and seemed unusually serious and stern. Yet she subconsciously one wrong word or gesture could knock him down like a pile of sticks. Somehow, it seemed odd that this quirky, often odd King could seem so down. But why shouldn't he? His whole country could be gone forever if they did not play the right cards.

Right across from them, four milky eyes watched them, their emotions hidden behind bushy eyebrows. Their gruff faces and short statues revealed them to be were dwarves, but then again not. Their stature was more elegant, built for greater speed while still managing to move tons of earth at a time. Their faces bore a strange, slight hopelessness and were covered with dirt. One had snarly, light brown hair; the other was similar with a slight strawberry tint. There was a little silver both their hair; along with heavy bags under their eyes.

A harsh grunt blurbed out of the smaller one. He had a slight elvish appearance in the right light. One he turned to his larger counterpart, his face glowing in the soft light of the room. They seemed to speak with their eyes, before turning back to the trio of humans across from them. He addressed them "The council is unlikely to make their decision for months, years even. By that time, there will be nothing left to defend. And if we try and force a decision now, a full scale war will break out. They do not have the strength, not even the nerve, to take you on. Not even if the Agretlam is part of their own. I doubt even Hrothgar's return from the grave could help..."

The other dwarf spoke. "The road is treacherous, many will never make it, but to those who do, their faith will be well rewarded..."

Nasuada kept to herself, her mind on her limited options. Surda could not defend itself, that much was clear. After centuries of opposition, they were running out of steam and time. She turned to Eragon, whispering to him. "The elves? Any news from them?"

"No milady, my liege. Du Weldenvarden has too many shields, too many safeguards. Our men need to pass through each and even then, the capitol is in the most hidden regions. We shall be lucky any return a month after..." Nasuada shifted uncomfortably. To take the offer would likely cost many casualties. But there wasn't many other things to do...

"Do you see any other way?" Nasuada pleaded. Eragon shook his head grimly.

She felt cornered, the weight of the world on her shoulders and not an escape root. "Orin? What do you think?"

Orin looked up, stains from tears left across his face. He suddenly seemed much older, lines across his face recoloring her perspective on him. "The road looks bleak, but nothing doesn't.."he choked, before adding bitterly, "Especially just to stay here. There is no other way out; this is the free ticket out. There will be no more if we do not take it now. I fear we will perish before week's end either way. We must act now to save who we can..."

"We assure you. You will be safe. No fool would dare cross that mountain." The dwarves said assuringly. That was precisely the problem.

Nausuada stood. "The guess work is over. We must act now. This or there will be no one to save." She turned to the dwarves, attempting to muster a grateful smile. "Thank you for helping us in our time of need. But it is important we get to work. Now. Tell your leaders we accept their hospitality." The two rose, slightly taller then her herself sitting in the big marble chairs.

As Nasuada stood, both Orrin and Eragon also rose. They towered above the dwarves, though they seemed not to mind. They seemed unfaised as they discussed the final plans and handed her a vague map. She watched them with a silent admiration as they bowed gracefully and turned to leave. They were a great people for offering their home, no matter how parlous, in the Varden's most dire hour.

After their faces become a distant memory, Nasuada turned back, sitting back in her spot. She rested her head on her hand, running her fingers through her hair.

"We may yet regret this..." She said, exhausted.

"We may just live to see today was necessary." Orrin answered.

"How could such an ultimatum be necessary?" She looked up at him. "If we had more time, I would say we should make our last stand here and now. Leave an impression on those soldiers they won't soon forget so that they see that we aren't dying for nothing. But I fear an attack like the one we are to face is on a scale we would not last the third day."

"Such things are necessary. War is not a thing to be taken lightly. The path to victory is always lined with many defeats." Orrin answered.

Nasuada gave a cynical, bitter laugh. "You still call this victory? Our enemies drive us into hell's own mouth and somehow we are still victorious? There is no chance!" She paused, her own body trembling with hysteria and fear. She began to weep hard. Her voice trembled. "I'm sorry. I truly am. I should not be so hopeless, but what do we have? What could there still be left?"

Orrin grabbed her head, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "We will get through this. No one said it'd be easy, but we will make it. I promise." He forced her in to his arms.

"Milady." Eragon said after a while. She looked up at him. His face was hidden, shadowed as he looked down. She nodded, somehow understanding he needed to speak with her. Alone.

"Orrin?" She said.

"Okay." He answered. The great king left with out another word, bowing gracefully as he made his exit.

When he was gone, the room went quiet. No crying. No talking. No breathing even. No one moved. No one spoke. No one even tried. The silence was welcomed from both. It let Nasuada swallow the bitter taste in her mouth and stole her tears. She wiped her eyes and stood.

"They aren't going to like it, are they? The council?"

"No," Eragon answered. "They probably won't. But what choice do we have?"

"What have I gotten myself into?" She sighed deeply.

"More than you know." Eragon answered. There was something cynical and odd about the way he spoke. He seemed like there was a great weight in his words, more so than usual.

She looked at him, a new light in her eyes. "You're not coming, are you?"

Eragon stopped dead cold in his tracks. He stuttered a little, hesitating. His hesitation was her answer.

"Eragon, it's okay to let go. Please, we'll figure out something."

"There is no other way." he answered coldly.

She was just about to respond, but the glare he gave cut her off. She knew, although she was his liege, there was no way she could force him. Not when he was only half of himself.

"Don't get caught intentionally, Eragon. I know you don't want to leave her..."

"The Varden is your duty, Nasuada. And you care for them well. I do not feel like I am doing mine anymore...I don't feel like I can."

"We need you, though. You, Eragon..." She answered.

"You have Aiedail. What use am I, anyway?"

He got up and left, leaving her to her thoughts in the study.

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The opaque light lofted into the tan cloth of the tent. It was the kind that was just enough, not too much and not too little, as that the cherry-wood engraved desk was seen in crystal detail. Unlit candles littered the collapsible shelves, which where all random assortments of books and maps and weapons of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The clammy humidity of the outside had found its way in; near the top, two vents were open, though they did little good. The impending attack set an heir of suspense and silence in the air.

But the only thing on his mind was what would she do if she saw him. Could she, whom he lied to all her life, ever find it in her to forgive him? He knew for sure she was a rider, as the egg had been spider-veined shortly after he stuck it in her bag, checking in silence.

Murtagh sighed. She was too young for this. Too small to be sucked into a war which could end her life. At least Eragon would knew to get her out...he hoped...

He gave a small chuckle. It was like he was some worry wart. Like a mom sending her child out into a cold world or a lover waiting to hear news of her drafted husband.

Always expecting every time someone taps him on the back, it means she's coming home in a coffin.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to meditate. On a hill separate from most of the camp, the chaos war brought was drowned out by the presence of Thorn nearby, eating his lunch zealously. His body could feel everything around him. But he paid no heed to the many presences and feelings he felt. They all melded together, like the endless drown of wind. It was like nothing was truly by itself; they were all one entity of earth. In fact, it almost seemed like the earth itself was a living, breathing organism.

The gentle feeling each life-force created iced him mind, numbing it to all the pain he'd seen. All the suffering. It was striped away as his own body joined the single entity.

Suddenly, a sentry broke though his tent, completely destroying the peace Murtagh felt. He flickered one eye open, a little annoyed someone would disturb his tranquility. The sentry gave a soft gulp, resting his hands on his knees as he recovered. His face was almost mauve, sweat dripping down his face. His skin gleamed like a beacon; most of his body was colored an off gold color. His clothes were typical, a dull gray color lined with sweat. He was a typical sentry. He tried to catch his breath as he spoke, without success "The rebels are on the move. Toward the Beors."

A sudden thought entered his mind...no, they couldn't, could they? The potential of such a feat could be catastrophic. Not that he really cared that much...expect this was his daughter he was talking about. "What direction? Exactly?"

"Southeast. Some have separated and curved their trajectory a little north." He answered instantaneously. Murtagh gave a worried frown and he nabbed a map under his desk. He got out a pen and created a straight line. He was right.

"Baltar. No doubt they'll take the Tangor Bay route." He traced a line down, following the safest routes he knew. "Akroth River, the uncharted regions of the Beors." he listed. Then he circled a massive mountain on the map. He shoved the map into the sentry's hands. "Take this to Galbatorix with haste."

The sentry looked at the crumpled map, reading a set of strange, foreign words scrawled messily onto the page. "'Az Bazul rak Guntera?' What is that?"

Murtagh turned to him, a dead serious look on his face. "Hell."

**Kind of a dramatic chapter, even for me. But it was extremely hard to create a bridge here so that they go where I want them too. So please tell me what you think and review.**


	34. Ninetysix

**As I have stated in any of the other stories, I pretty much have a huge thanksgiving update in the works...actually two. The first will be every story I have period. But the second will only be my biggest ones. And you know, if you are reading this, I want to congratulate you. Last night, I did a page count. I've done so incredibly much work on Evermore and already knew it was the longest story I've ever made, but GOD. I had expected one-hundred to one-seventy-five pages, but adding this and the next chapter, Evermore is over FIFTY pages longer than that. And by far, it is the longest I've ever stuck with a story.**

**But anyway, I have written waaay to much recently and am running a little dry on inspiration. But pretty much I owe you guys for all the terribly timed updates, and that chapter I had on the comp forever without posting, though it was done.**

**So, back to my point. I need to give credits to Diet coke, NOS, and for this chapter, Trading Yesterday's fabulously angsty song, Shattered. It so fits Eragon in this chapter and if you were to stretch the song out, you'd actually see I modeled this chapter after it. The second song actually had me in tears a little as I wrote this. The scene with the music, just terrible. It is dedicated to the second character, won't tell you who. The song? Guardian Angel by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. But enough blabber. I still have some thing like ten-thousand words to write.**

* * *

Light tremors echoed across the ivory roof, the only proof the weather outside was anything but sunny. The sun shone brightly overhead. The rain was lighter then mist and more chilling than snow. It seemed highly out of place, refreshing and beautiful, creating a rainbow, which continuously crested atop the sky.

Most was drowned out by the chaos just bellow. The halls were either empty and hollow or packed with things being thrown this way and that as nobles frantically scurried around, hoping to beat the crowds. Nobles called to their servants, screaming at them to pack this and that.

"'Don't forget the fur coat.'

'The white mink one?'

'No, the black. Better bring the white too.'"

"'No, I want all of it.'

'Way too heavy.'

'I don't care. I won't have it looted.'"

"'Ten pairs of shoes.'"

From afar, Eragon watched, too distant and out of it to really comprehend the hastily emptying halls. He detachedly as nobles packed thousands of material, non-essentials. Furs, jewels, random, rich extravagants of little to no importance in the wild. He knew most of them would not last a week. They didn't seem to care about food or weapons or anything which could prove to be helpful in those cursed hills. It did not matter to the weather or wild animals how rich you were and it made you a good target for bandits and robbers.

He'd given up trying to reason with them. Despite his rank, they always looked at him like he was crazy when he told them to leave their riches behind. They were all rather attached to such things, though they would not even matter to the dwarves in truth. Every member of the clan they were about to join was treated as equals, save their queen, who was crowned out of the youth from the purest and most promising.

He sighed. His own race made less sense to him then any animal, wild or tame. At least animals were remotely predictable. They just were simply after the essentials. Everything they did was pure survival instinct. Hungry? Go hunt or forage. Thirsty? There's a stream. Tired? Go to sleep. Cold? Go somewhere warm. Something trying to kill you? Fight or flight. Want to ensure there are mini-yous? Breed. It was all so straight forward. But people...People carried things they didn't need, created drama where there is none. The game was to cut one another down, to be as irrational as possible to make yourself "live life." He would never fully understand his race. Saphira had been right when she had said everything on two-legs was confusing.

_Saphira..._

All thoughts lead to the same direction it seemed. It was as if his subconscious was trying to see how many random things it could connect to her. No on had any suggestions on how to save her. Angela trying to figure out what was going on, but it wasn't as if she had had too terribly much experience with treating dragons. After all, the only two dragons alive and out of their shells had been for the longest time didn't exactly come out on a regular basis...That and Eragon had ordered her to leave. They couldn't stand to loose Aiedail, who hadn't yet gotten better from her wound. She needed to get there safely.

He paused for a moment, wondering what they were doing. This had cost him so much. Everything. He'd lost his mother. He'd lost Garrow. He lost his home. He lost the only father and mentor he'd ever had. He'd lost his friend and brother. After loosing so much, he was surprised he had gone on after that even. But now it was even worse. He almost lost his cousin. He'd lost his freedom. And for all the blood and sweat he put into it, all the pain, all the drama, every thing he'd given up, what did he have to show for it? The Varden hung by a loose string. One slip and it would be over. And then there was one other thing he'd lost. The biggest of all. He'd lost his other half.

In the back of his mind, even though everyone promised they would get her out, that they would save her, that she wouldn't have to stay here, he knew it was over. The Empire practically had Saphira. All they needed now was to come and claim her. And once they had her, they as good as had him.

Eragon had never been more lonely in his life. That connection, the sound of her beautiful voice, her encouragement, her odd sense of humor, the intimacy the pair shared, he missed it all. He even missed the sound of her breathing, feeling life's breath rising with in her. He missed every emotion, every insight, every gory desire she felt. He never knew just how much he needed her till she was gone. How other people, how _he_, could have lived with out her...it baffled him. She was the hope in his heart. The thoughts in his head. The strength in his muscles. Their connection was as essential to him as the air in his lungs, the beat of his heart. She needed to be with in him, as much as he needed blood to bring air to his cells. Apart, he had no mind. Apart, he felt no joy. Apart, he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't believe. He had managed in the course of a few days to become more cynical than anyone he knew.

He now understood why it hurt so much, to loose your dragon. Trouble was, she was still alive. And while it comforted him knowing that she was still among the living, it was almost worse. Would never ever seeing her again really be as being able to see her, to feel her, but not to reach her? For her to be as mindless as a wild animal or more so? For her to be deaf to his pains, his troubles, his cries? Not only that but also wanting to kill him? He wasn't so sure. But the whole deal was driving him mad. He wasn't sure how long he would last...

He let his mind wander to all the times they'd spent together. He could see in his minds eye a young dragon before him, liking itself clean after hatching. The way she mewed at him continuously, following him around. The look she'd given him when he first left her outside. The first time she flew and how proud he'd felt that she'd returned to him. As her size grew, he could see himself sitting in the hollow of her neck for hours, stroking her neck and murmuring softly to her. He remembered her saying his name for the first time and how shocked he'd been. He thought of the first time he'd called her by her name, how well it had suited. Skipping ahead, he remembered how scared he'd been when he'd flown with her, how she reassured him and they wound up having one of the top experiences of his life. Then came the feeling of pride as she grew bigger and bigger, magnificent and elegant, belittling whatever was near her.

He saw her protecting him, willing to waste anything and everything, risking her life for his stupid, trouble-prone self. Selflessly looking after him like she would the hatchling he was so sure she would have some day. He felt her comfort, her strength pouring into him whenever he was down. Her trying to shield him from the pains of rejection from Arya or the terrible attacks he got from his scar which had once ran down his back. Her love for him, always present, always there. Then came his darkest hour, when Murtagh had revealed they were brothers and had him pinned. He only saw how hard she tried to reach him, to protect him. Always to protect him. The way she'd desperately tried to convince him that he was not his brother nor his father.

Then came the more resent memories. The way they always laughed at the nobles, the way they were always in tune. The comfort she'd supplied after hearing about his first girl's death. The way Katrina had hurt her, but still she overcame her words to come to his aid. Roran at death's door and Saphira coming to the rescue, only to be so modest as to not tell Katrina. The phenomenal time they'd had which showed why they sacrificed so much for one another. Her caring for the hatchling. And then that moment when she attacked him rose to mind. She hurt Aiedail. She just about killed him. She severely wounded a guard during transport.

They had less than four days. Four days before the troops would arrive. Four days if they wanted to save his best friend. Four days to save his savior. Four days till they would come try and take her away from him. It was his time to protect her. He could not fail her. He straightened up, his eyes going darker. They were not going to get her. If he had to rip out Shruken and Thorn's hearts with his own two hands they would not take her. She was his. He was hers. And now, in her darkest hour, when she didn't remember herself nor anything she stood for, he needed to look after her.

With the determination which could normally be considered madness, Eragon continued to where he had been headed, a strong perseverance in his stride. Each step, he pretended, smashed someone who was in his way between him and his Saphira.

When her reached his destination, he entered without another thought, smashing his arms into the doors, slinging them back on their hinges as they hit the walls. A gust of wind came with him. All the faces, all one-hundred-and-thirty-seven, turned to face him, surprise, shock or fear on most. Not an eye strayed him as he walked with the same stride to the front of the roof, all of his muscles, from his abs to his biceps to his triceps tense.

When he had reached the front, he looked down the line, seeing each face individually. He saw few faces he recognized, no surprise really. Everyone who was staying knew it was a suicide mission, that they were almost guaranteed not to come out of this alive. The able-bodied men he was used to were not these people. Many seemed far too old or even a few, too young. Only around thirty seemed like they were able bodied. A few had injuries or diseases which were incurable and crippling. He'd seen a few in the hospital wing.

He sighed deeply. This was going to be a lot harder than he had thought... "Let's get down to business. We had just under ninety-six hours." He looked into each of their faces. "This is not going to be like all those stories your grandparents told you. Or anything you've ever read. This is war. Take a look at the man next to you. Can you stand seeing his intestines on a pike in the ground? Have you tasted your own blood before? Will you give as good as you get, killing as many as you can? Can you follow my orders? Are you ready to die? If you answered no to any of these questions, I suggest you leave. This is not the place to get glory or vengeance. No one will know you existed. You will die. If you can accept this, step forward."

Most everyone made the step, save a couple, clearly intimidated by his words. He winced. One of them was an able-bodied. Still, he had to warn them.

"We get started. Now. We have to get this done. We need to start yesterday, you hear me?" He looked around. "Separate into two groups. Those who've handled a sword, whether you used it or not, gather on this side, the rest, on the other."

About half of the group went on the first side, the rest to the latter. Most of the able-bodieds went to the former.

"Now, those that have actually fought in battle, go to the middle. The rest of you, stay where you are." Only twelve, eight able-bodied, four youth,came to the center. Eragon had anticipated this. But what surprised him was to see a familiar face. The same boy who warned him of the attack, scarcely fifteen. He nodded at the boy in respect.

"You are the ones that will stay with me." he said aside to them, before addressing the rest. "You all have different talents. But since we don't have the time to evaluate your skills. We need to get right into the training. Those who have never had a sword still will not. Your focus will be archery. Those fighting with swords will spar regularly. You twelve are going to have a special job. But more on that will come. Right now, I need to get you guys started."

"Is it true then? That Galbatorix is going to be there?" A voice asked. Each man looked uneasily to the other as a rapid exchanging whispers.

Eragon looked very seriously. "I'm not going to sugar coat it. If the number are as big as reported, even if both the riders didn't come, we would loose. But if both come, I cannot face them. I might be capable of facing one if someone could distract their dragon for me, but never two at once. Not without..." his voice cut off as he once more got that feeling of being alone.

"Saphira? So it's true then. She is no longer with us." Eragon shot the man such a glare, as if just staring at him was enough to kill him. His chest tightened as he once more got an overwhelming feeling of being lost in himself without her. With out another word, he left. Despite odd looks and nervous gestures thrown at him. The crowd cleaved away as he walked, giving him plenty of girth. He handed one of the capable soldiers a list of how to further sort it out.

From behind him, he could hear someone yell after him, calling his name devoid of its usual titles, but he just kept walking a fast, powerful pace.

Things were about to get complicated…

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Eragon sat on the perch he'd been stuck in so much lately. Beneath him, Saphira slept peacefully, the steady sounds of her breathing. It calmed him greatly, though it wasn't the same. The normal intimacy was missing, something he longed for. More then anything he wished to be there, with her.

He leg his feet dangle downwards. His mind staggered on this thought. All it would take was one push. One expertly place jump and he could have his desire, even if only for a moment. He could be at her side and leave this world to their own problems, being just rider and dragon once more. The realization that she would surly kill him was a mere inconvenience. A jump to a quick and painless end or a dramatic, played-out, torture-filled life filled to the brim with pain. No contest. To him, it would be worth it. Hell, anything was worth it. He would rather be put to rest and take her with him than be forced to leave her to the wolves in a couple of agonizing days.

He hummed a soft, sad tune he had heard long ago in his youth. He couldn't remember the words, something to do with war he knew. Maybe it was some widow's song; perhaps a cynical outlook into the future. Whatever it was, it soothed his nerves. Imagining the pain the person who made it felt somehow relaxed him about his own.

There was a creak coming from the platform he was on. He didn't look up, simply reading the intruder's mind and knowing who it was. He could feel the hesitance coming off of him as easily as he could feel the platform beneath him.

The boards creaked once more and two feet, muddy and blistered, appeared next to his own. Without looking at him, his eyes on Saphira, he spoke up. "Surprised they let you down here..."

"You shouldn't be alone..." The boy instantaneously knew his mistake of words and quickly tried to find some other way to phrase it. Eragon stopped him.

"No, it's okay. I know what you meant...I never did get your name..."

"Hayden." He answered without a pause.

Eragon gave a sharp nod. "You know, this whole thing is pretty unjust to you. You come here to escape the war and the war follows you..."

"It's okay. I'm used to it by now, or I should be anyways..." The two fell silent for a moment.

Eragon finally spoke up. "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"

The boy didn't speak for a moment. He seemed at a loss. Eragon dared a glance to him. His eyes were distant. He didn't appear to be looking at anything in particular, but he could see a layer of great sadness in his eyes, one that aged him far beyond his year. He noticed for the first time that he hadn't changed his clothes. They were sewn up and washed to the best ability, but they were the same mangy clothes he'd seen him in the first time he'd seen him in. His hair was in a messy, dirty blond mat on his head and there was a cowlick with seemed determined to stay up. He seemed less than concerned with how he looked, though his body was lanky, toned no more than a farm boy's should.

He heaved a great sigh. "You know, I was born and raised far from any of this. So far. I remember some nights we would go down to a field by the coast, my older brother, me, and my younger sister. And we would just talk, all night, no matter how cold, till the stars started to fade. About our dreams. About everything really. And we'd always said we would be together no matter what, that our family was perfect and it could never be broken."

He gave a bitter chortle. "You know, she was always following us around, little Vexia. She was a miracle. Mom had had nearly a half a dozen miscarriages and one still born. But she wanted one more kid. Vexi was a gift. She was kind of quiet, but always there, soaking up whatever we said or did like a damn little sponge. She was three years younger than me and eight years younger than my brother. No matter what I did, she always looked at me like a god.

"One day I was with her and it was her first day ever going swimming. She was so excited, but I didn't really pay that much attention to her. My brother had gone hunting and I hadn't gotten to go yet; so in my frustration, I paid no mind to her, no matter how excited or how long she called.. Not until I heard the screaming. She'd been carried out to sea and was desperately trying to go back. I dove in after her and managed some how to get her back to the coast. She wasn't breathing. I tried everything, till finally she inhaled and let out this raspy cough. First thing she did was say it wasn't my fault and that she shouldn't have let the tide take her.

"After that, I never let her leave my side. She almost died because of me. I was on her like a hawk. Never let her out of my sight for more than a second. I gotta say, even though she was glad I hung out with her, I think she eventually got annoyed with how on her I was."

He choked, obviously invoking a really sad memory. "And then it happened. She got sick. Real sick. She was shaking constantly and puking out blood." he paused his voice wavering. "All I really know was that I was glued to her bed side. Didn't eat. Didn't drink. Barely breathed. Just held her little hand in mine, never let her go. As if by holding her would stall death. But she grew iller and iller till she was scarcely breathing."

His eyes grew glassy. "I remember it perfectly. Was only a little less than eight, but I can see that day. The way the air seemed still around her. The raspy little noise of each breath slipping into her body. Her little pulse seeming to flutter. I can see her in her bed, a sour smell in the air. She lost a lot of weight. And anything and everything she said really didn't make sense. But as I watched her fade away, she turned to me and said it was not my fault.

"Those were her last words. She was gone after that. I'd like to say it was great that she was no longer suffering and yada yada, but I missed her. Missed her like crazy. It was like having a part of myself torn out when Vexi died. Not a day went by that I didn't pray for her to return to me. I still do. She was my baby sister. For weeks after, I would cry myself to sleep. I distanced myself from the rest of my family, not willing for another bond like that to be broken."

He stopped for a moment and sniffled. "Over those dark weeks after her death, I was gone. Out of it. I thought it would be better just to end it now and be with her once more. I knew she wouldn't want it that way but I just...I couldn't. I couldn't go on, not without her. One day, I went down to the same coast we had gone down to so long ago. I stood on the cliff and looked down. The rocks would surely do it. Fast. And fast, to me, would mean painless. I just couldn't take it. Blamed myself for what happened. I should have tried harder. I should have found a way...

"Then, just before I'd done it, a hand grabbed me. It was my brother. It was Pace. He talked some sense into me. He told me this wouldn't do anything but give death a three for one. Asked him what that was about and he told me if I jumped, he would just have to jump right after me. Told me with out his two pain-in-the-asses, what would he do?

"It was hard, but you know, he got through to me. It is pretty senseless to kill yourself, even for someone you care about. If I had died that day, who would of warned you of the attack?" Eragon looked down, finally seeing the meaning behind his story. How had he guessed it? He didn't say anything. "We'll make it through, Eragon. Trust me. You'll live, she will live. It's not over. Not yet..."

* * *

**Just a load of angst and set up. I would like to know what you guys think on Hayden, Vexia, and Pace. I can tell you they will be poping up here and there. God damn I have like a million charactors I am intro-ing right now in this story. Oh yah, and while searching for the right names for those three, I stumbled on a site that had a name I recognized as an Eragon charactor. Quimby. It was just great. Well, now I have another ten thousand words to write. Hasta Lavista**


	35. Injury to insult

**Hey guys. Merry Christmas! I am going to have new chapters for you guys hopefully for three days in a row to celebrate. At least Xmas Eve and Xmas. I was going to have this be part of another mega update, but was unable to compelte chapters for my other fics. This one just fascenates me right now. Plus, there is something else...never mind it though. I have more on that for you guys on the ATRI page, so go check it before you read!**

**Of course there is a song for this chapter. I had had no idea how to write this, though I did know in general what I wanted. But then I came across this song and really it not only really fits every character in this chapter, but it helped inspire me to try a completely different approach to writing it. The song is Hurt by Thousand Foot Krutch; I suggest listening to it while reading for the full affect. Throw in a little 3 Days Grace and Trans Siberian Orchestra with a couple other odds and ends and you get this chapter. So without further a due…**

**Enjoy!**

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The first explosion shattered through the air around noon.

In its wake, a symphony of shouts and alarms rang out, shattering the pre-battle silence. Eragon was among the first of the confused, bleary-eyed men to stumble out into the hall, not knowing what was going on.

In his sleep-deprived state, his mind did not comprehend at first what was going on. It was like a dream, a nightmare. Men ran around him, rushing and shouting to each other. Many gathered their weapons, their battered shields and armor clanking wildly around. Some struggled to put them on, panic in their eyes. Another explosion jarred the air, the sound of shattering stone echoing through the empty halls. It was accompanied by the choking smell of smoke.

It took him another moment to fully regain composure till he got himself to start toward the sound, first slowly then faster and faster with every step till he was at a dead run.

It was just wrong. Everything. The scouts had said the Empire was still miles away, and besides that, why noon? The Empire had spotted group of scouts and killed two. There would be no surprise with their attack. No matter when that was. Plus night would be a much better time to attack. But at noon? When they were all wide-awake and most were at their best? The only thing could remotely help their cause was the heavy mist which had set in, obscuring details of anything over a couple feet away. And that really would hurt them just as much as the Varden and Surda's forces; if not more because of them being more familiar with the lands.

He could feel his heart racing as another explosion filled the air. A thin layer of sweat and dew coated his skin, sending chills down his spine.

As Eragon arrived upon the courtyard, suddenly, a new sound rattled the air. Eragon froze in his dead run, shock written on his features. _Thud. _A heavy impact jarred the air. _Thud. _The mists above him swirled around in a white wind. They condensated on his check, further drenching his body. _Thud. _The sound of wings pumping filled the air. _No! Not yet!_

Then came the blood-curdling roar, high pitched and animalistic. A shadow shivered across the expanse of the courtyard. He looked up just in time to see a shape shifting in and out of the clouds.

A torrent of flame ripped down towards him, setting the white mist to a blue gleam. Feeling a familiar tingling in his body, he cried out the first word that came to mind. "Brisingr!"

At the last second, the flame swirled upward back to where it came from, the intense heat singeing his hair. The figure above effortlessly dodged, the sounds of its growls of frustration rolling off his ears.

Eragon drew Adurna. The blue blade glimmered as it slung out. "Come on!" He shouted as the figure above wheeled around for another attack. He shielded his mind, not intent on letting the other rider get the best of him. The dragon above dove toward him. Eragon could hear the almighty crack of his jaws as he rushed towards the rider. The next second he got a face full of monstrous teeth snapping at him. He swung Adurna wildly, his vision clouded by the mist. The dragon snarled and pulled away, rising up. As he turned his tail impacted Eragon, the spikes on its end scraping across his unprotected stomach. He clenched his abdominal muscles to keep them from going too deep.

He stumbled back, putting one hand across his bleeding stomach to assess the damage as the dragon ascended with a triumphant roar. Blood gushed from the wound, warm and sticky. Not life threatening if treated fast enough, but he had no time. The dragon seemed to be content with watching him suffer for a little, circling above him like a vulture waiting for a weak animal to finally surrender to death. He wondered if he dared to risk a healing spell, considering the way the dragon was attacking lead him to believe its rider wasn't on it.

Suddenly he felt bile rise in his throat. If the dragon's rider wasn't on it, where was he? He looked around him, hoping that this hadn't been some sort of trap. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around, slashing Adurna wildly. It hit cold steel and sent shards splintering the ground.

Before Eragon could make another lunge, a familiar voice stopped him. "Eragon! Stop! Stop! It's just me!" He let his sword down as he eyed Hayden.

"Sorry." He murmured as Hayden half-heartedly stared down at his broken blade in disbelief.

"Guess I'm gonna need a new sword…" Eragon flashed him a quick smile and drew an older blade he had been keeping on him. It was covered in rust and had several dents, testifying to its master's harsh treatment. Hayden gave it an odd look and dropped the broken one, reluctantly taking it. "Thanks…" he said as he eyed it distastefully. "Still gonna need a new one…"

"Let's just make it through this first. Then we can worry about afterwards." He said as the dragon above them let out a roar as if to remind them he was still there. "Cover my back! The rider's not on him!" He shouted as the dragon dove once more.

This time the attack seemed more planned, no longer just wild slashes. He rushed toward the weak points on Eragon, his legs and wounded midsection. Eragon slashed at the dragon's head, barely missing its obscured eyes. He still could not tell if it was Shruikan or Thorn he was dealing with, though he hoped the latter.

The dragon attempted to circle the pair, knowing that Hayden would not have enough experience to deal with it, but the pair kept spinning, following the dragon's motions perfectly.

The dragon suddenly sped up, hoping to win the fight in one try. Eragon took advantage of its poorly calculated move, slashing out at him. Adurna clipped his left wing, easily sliding through the membrane and shredding it. The blue blade gleefully glimmered as red met its length. Hot dragon blood squirted from the wound, a few droplets hitting Hayden, scalding his skin.

The dragon roared in pain and pulled up, further ripping the flesh. He sent a torrent of flame back at them as he rose away. Eragon gripped the younger boy's shoulder and dove down, sending them both sprawling to the ground just as the fire roared over head. But it wasn't quite quick enough for Eragon, catching him on his right shoulder. He let out a cry of pain as his skin blistered in the intense heat. It did not catch fire, but it still burned away a good chunk of his shirt. He was glad for the first time it was such a misty day as the moisture soothed the burn.

The dragon above them bobbed, clearly struggling to stay airborne. He fought it, attempting to rise once more. But for every mighty pump of his wings, his body dropped a foot. Finally, the great dragon relented, tucking his hurt wing inwards and using the other one to gently glide down. What ever chance there was that this fight was going to result in all four walking away unhurt seemed to be gone with the dragon's ability to fly.

A chorus of twangs suddenly echoed through the air. Eragon gave a grim smile as he realized that his men were mounting an attack on the dragon. He didn't expect them to rush in with him like Hayden had; he'd actually ordered them not to, but even the arrows were an unexpected display of courage.

There was a chorus of metallic clanks as many bounced harmlessly off his scales and some totally missed, hitting the pillars behind the dragon rather then the dragon himself, but a infuriated roar testified to the fact that some found purchase in the dragon's side and wings.

The beast rose on its hind legs, mindlessly slashing towards at the arrows. Its tail grated across the ground as he swung his forelegs at the upper level of the building where the shots came from. Eragon took advantage of the distraction and swiftly healed his wounds as the sounds of the arrows met his ears once more.

He rushed towards the dragon the next second, silently and swift poising his blade to strike. He slashed at the dragons back, shuddering as the dragon let out an anguished whine. He swung backwards at his attacker, but Eragon quickly dodged, rolling behind a pillar. The infuriated dragon blindly rushed forward, oblivious to the fact that Hayden coming from behind…

The dragon's massive head appeared from behind the pillar, snapping at Eragon. He slashed back, forcing the dragon to withdraw a bit. Eragon started to try to run, but the dragon's massive tail slammed in front of him, the force of the blow sending Adurna flying and sending him sprawling backwards toward the dragon's waiting claw.

The massive creature grasped Eragon's form, smashing him into the pillar that had protected him, now betraying him. He yelled in agony, the harsh claws digging into him. They pushed cruelly into him, squeezing the life out of him as the dragon malevolently rumbled with pleasure. The scaly arms pulled him up off the ground, skimming him across the pillar. His skin tore across his back as he screamed wordlessly, struggling to break free of the dragon's grasp.

Soon the ground bellow was a hazy blur even to his elven gaze. The dragon rose to its full height, its head towering above him. He could imagine the look of glee in his eyes; could almost feel his pride of victory like an electric buzz through the air.

But before the dragon could get in the final blow, a new sound filled the air. With a yell, Hayden plunged his borrowed blade into the dragon's thick left ankle. He roared in pain, doubling over. As his grip released him, Eragon found himself freefalling, right towards the dragon's neck spikes! He swiftly drew a small dagger he kept on his side, desperately plunging it into the column. Luck was with him for once and it caught the stone, abruptly stopping his fall.

Bellow, the dragon swung at his aggressor, sending Hayden flying backwards till he hit a far pillar with a sickening crack. Satisfied, the dragon turned in pain to face Eragon once more. With a sick feeling, Eragon realized that even wounded, his neck could reach this high alone. He needed to get higher! He desperately swung his legs, trying to find purchase as the dragon rose his neck to meet Eragon rapidly.

Just as it seemed he wouldn't make it, a sole metallic twang filled the air followed by the most terrible sound he'd ever heard, a dragon's scream. Not roar or whine, a scream. He could feel his eardrums split and he couldn't help but loose his hold on the dagger, the momentum sending him flying across the courtyard. He landed hard, his body writhing with pain.

And it was a good thing he did; the sound of exploding stone filled the air as the dragon crashed headfirst into the column. It broke into a million pieces as the dragon fell to the ground, setting the earth vibrating as the pieces rained down.

Eragon didn't move for a second, his gaze not wavering from where the fallen dragon lay, unmoving. He finally rose to his feet, warily watching his fallen foe. He didn't move, not even an inch.

A groan distracted him suddenly. He turned to see Hayden lying a few feet away from him.

With a limp, he staggered over to his side. Hayden was pretty banged up, his shirt red with blood and his torso and all visible skin speckled in bruises and a few blisters. He let out another groan. Eragon knelt over, feeling pain shoot up from his left leg. He kept weight off of it as he gently placed a hand on the young boy's side. He closed his eyes, seeing his damaged body we his mind. He then methodically healed each wound, dabbing into the reserves he'd built in Adurna's gems as well his own strength.

After he had patched up Hayden to the best of his ability, he healed each of his own wounds, though his leg still hurt accompanied by this terrible pain on his face. He had to bite his tongue to suppress it.

With in a few seconds, he heard footsteps and looked up. A figure appeared, silhouetted by the milky mists. It was a tall, lanky form with broad shoulders. In one of his—for it obviously was his—hands was a bow. He moved in a similar way to Hayden, slow but sure. As he appeared, Eragon could see how much he resembled Hayden, especially obvious in the way he smiled. It was curved up on the left slightly. But there were a few differences. His hair was a rich shade of brown and seemed much better kept. Also rather than Hayden's dark blue eyes, he had deep brown eyes that matched the shade of his hair. He wore the same clothes, however, beaten and patchy.

Hayden finally came to fully, slowly sitting up. "Pace…" Hayden moaned, confirming that this was indeed his brother.

"Aren't you skilled? Only you would stab a dragon 'n' then just stand there like an imbecile." He let out a chuckle, a playful gleam in his eyes. "Lucky that you got such a good brother to look out for ya." He mussed up Hayden's hair affectionately.

"What happened?" Hayden asked.

"Shot it in the eye. It freaked out and crashed in the pillar. I dunno if it's dead or alive…" He answered.

"Suppose I should thank you." Eragon said. Pace looked at him. "Would have gotten me if not for you…"

"No big deal…" Pace said, his voice quivering a little to let Eragon know he knew whom he was talking to.

"I highly doubt that. That was some shot. It was even moving…" Eragon gave him a kind smile to let him know it was okay to take credit where credit was due.

He rose, a limp still evident in his stride as he moved over to examine the dragon. In his peripheral vision, he could see Pace due fully supporting his brother as Hayden tried to stand. He couldn't help but let smile tug at the corners of his lips.

That smile grew much more serious though as he cautiously approached his fallen foe. Even from this distance, he could see it was not dead. He eyed the wounds and was impressed that the dragon had managed to last so long. The blow to his wings had left a massive, painful-looking hole in his wing. The left ankle was destroyed so bad, he knew even if it got a magician to look at it, the ankle would always be weak and chances were it would never be able to support much weight. The wounds to the back left untreated were serious enough that the dragon would bleed out almost surely. Random arrows stuck out of his side, most of them shallow and easily treatable. But the arrow lodged into the eye, though not far enough to reach the brain, was possibly the worst thing, he knew. The dragon would never be able use his eye ever again, and if it got infected it could easily become life threatening.

Suddenly, as Eragon took another step forward, something happened.

He froze, bile rising in his throat, his head threatening to explode. It wasn't a he… it was a her. It was Saphira. He lost his control at that moment, the little contents of his stomach pouring onto the bloody ground. He had seen little glimmers of blue while they were fighting, but he hadn't thought it was really her. Just his mind playing tricks on him! He couldn't believe he tried to…how could he have….

He paid attention to the pain on his face and leg once more, realizing it wasn't really _his_ legs and _his_ face that hurt. They were the two worst wounds she had been dealt. He was still remotely linked to her, though it had gotten much weaker. He was feeling her pain…

He could feel his stomach clenching, trying to find something more it could toss out. His dry heaving forced acid to gather in his mouth, eating away at his gums. He couldn't believe it and closed his eyes, praying when he opened them this would just be a dream, just his over-active, exhausted mind was playing tricks on him.

But when he opened his eyes again, he was still facing her blue thigh. There was still rubble covering her body. They had still attacked her, his best friend, his girl. They had still made her half blind and taken away both forms of motion she had at her disposal. Another sick feeling hit him as he realized she would be completely defenseless against Shruikan and Thorn in this state. As if it wasn't bad enough!

How could this even have happened! She was in a tower! A reinforced, magical tower! And she had been drugged! She should still be there! He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be the one who look after her, with the rest of the magicians gone. He must have miscalculated the dose…

He could feel his heart ripping. This was his fault. All of it. If he had just…he hadn't meant to…He let out a choking cry as he fell to his knees, his hands cupping her wounded thigh. He held her tightly, sobs wracking his body. He could not believe this. There was just no way. How was it that of everything that could have happened today the very worst was thing that did?

He clenched and unclenched his hands, anger gripping him. Anger for what ever was happening to her. Anger with the Empire for tearing them apart. Anger at her for not being truly there to talk to. Above all, anger at himself for letting this happen. If he had just protected her. It wasn't that hard. She did it all the time. But when she was at her worst, he did nothing.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, more to himself than to her. As tears drained down his face, he burrowed his head into her side. Even though this was less than what he had expected, it was the worst and best he'd felt in forever. To touch her. To hold her. To feel her. He felt closer to her than he'd been in weeks, yet still so far away. He had to look at her to see she was breathing, still couldn't actually hear her the way he always had. The intimacy was missing. Still, it felt good, to caress the warm scales on her leg. "I missed you…I don't want to leave you…" He murmured, the tears on his face all too blinding.

He was so caught up in his tears that when it happened, in no way was he ready. A blue tail smashed into him hard, hitting him squared in the head, knocking him out instantly as he flew back and hit the ground hard.

Hayden and Pace weren't too far off when they hear the massive crash and the roar that followed. They rushed back, Hayden overcoming what was left of his dizziness. They had, as soon as they too had realized it was Saphira, left Eragon to his privacy. But they hadn't though she would wake!

Her neck was right above him, curled protectively around her prey. She let her lip go back a little in a malevolent grin, ready to defend her catch if need be. She snarled at the brothers, beckoning them to come closer.

"What do we do?" Pace shouted to his brother, drawing his bow and a small blade.

Hayden thought for a moment till something hit him and he looked over at Pace. "I have a plan…"

"What?"

"We kick her butt." He answered. Pace smiled at his brother, knowing that Hayden knew what he was doing.

The two took off in separate directions, keeping a wide birth from the dragon, though not so far as to loose her attentions. She seemed confused as to which one to pay attention to, her gaze snapping this way and that. Every time she tried to look at one, the other moved a little closer then jumped back as soon as she turned to face them. It became a game almost.

Then she seemed to remember herself and let out a torrent of flame to Pace before snapped her attention back to Hayden. She was wounded, her motions limited, but Hayden knew that was no reason to get cocky. He eyed his brother a second as Pace dodged the messily fired flame. Then it was time. Hayden ploughed in, blade flashing wildly.

Saphira lunged like a snake, snapping her jaws at him. He dodged her and swung his blade wildly, not truly intending to hit her. He just needed to keep her attentions for a little while…

Pace hooked his arm around Eragon; said man did not so much as groan or anything. He knew he would be carrying dead weight, but he needed to get Eragon out of there till he regained consciousness.

He pulled at Eragon's shoulder, hoping to get him out before his dragon saw what was going on…

Hayden desperately fought off Saphira's advances, banging his sword on her teeth a couple times when she remember there was more than one brother she was fighting to garner her attentions once more.

He scraped her cheek with one thrust, sweat gleaming off his forehead as she withdrew a little. Smoke bubbled out of her silts as she let out a hiss of pain. She snapped her fangs at him, trying to find some weakness in his defense.

He ducked out of her way and once more lunged forward at her. She growled and lunged at his legs, finally finding purchase. Her teeth dug into his thigh, slicing through his muscles. He let out a hoarse cry, his leg on fire. He couldn't think, couldn't see, could barely breath. She picked him up, shaking him like a rag doll. Blood gushed out of his wound, forcing a painful cry from his cracked lips.

"Hayden!" Pace screamed as he let go of Eragon and rushed to his brother's aid. Saphira seemed surprised by his sudden outburst and lost grip on Hayden's leg, sending him sprawling to the floor. He grunted, the feel of his rib cracking sending a fire into his chest.

Pace rushed in with out another thought, rapidly slashing at the dragon. She seemed overwhelmed at first, not sure how to counter act his wild advances. But soon she got her game back and blew a puff of fire at him to prove it.

Pace dodged most of it, the edge grazing his arm. But he didn't so much as bite his lip as his arm blistered, his mind too focused on his brother. He wouldn't loose him, even if it meant his life he'd be damned if he lost him! He continued with his wild motions, spinning in a dizzying pattern as he struggled to protect his brother.

He kept a wild, unpredictable pattern to his attacks. The dragon, who had been fighting all this time plus before Eragon even came out, seemed to be tiring, her motion more staggering and her breathing uncontrolled. Pace on the other hand, had much more energy, having only barely been involved in the original fight and caught up with adrenaline, had only just broke a sweat. He was glad for once that he had been a farm boy before hand rather than a butcher or even a smith, so he had a decent level of endurance.

In desperation, Saphira lashed her tail out like a whip, clipping him hard across the chest and knocking the breath out of him. As he fell to the ground, she pulled away for a moment, catching her breath.

He tried to stand but she put her foreleg across him, holding him down as her body shook with effort of standing. He looked up into her eyes, filled with pure fire and rage.

Suddenly she let out a screech as Hayden slashed at her uninjured back leg. She swung her tail to meet him, but he duck just in time. He wracked his blade across her tail, leaving a gaping cut across her tail.

Before she could retaliate any more, Eragon's voice rose. "Slytha!" Suddenly, she collapsed where she lay, her legs giving way. She let out a soft whine before collapsing to the floor, her weight bearing down on Pace. He grunted, her claws digging into him.

"Pace!" Hayden shouted, moving as fast as his injuries permitted to his older brother's side. Pace looked up at him, blood pooling all around him.

"'Ey Haydi." He coughed out hoarsely as his brother desperately tried to unhook Saphira's claws out of his brother. "I 'ook good 'uh." He groaned out weakly.

Hayden coughed up a little blood, absentmindedly wiping the red liquid from his lip. Nothing mattered till Pace was safe. "Want were you thinkin' Pace? 'Oh I'll just run up and attack a dragon and then when it passes out be right under it.' Real smart." Hayden let a playful smile play across his lips, trying to keep his face devoid of the pain or worry he currently was feeling.

He gently pulled each talon out of Pace's flesh, carful to avoid causing further discomfort to him. Finally free, he pulled Pace away to safety. He looked down at his older brother, who caught the worry in his eyes and flashed a cocky, left-side-up smile.

"We 'ere a good team 'ack there." He murmured weakly.

"We still are." Hayden smiled at him. "You were really brave."

"Naw, I'm just you 'lder brother….my job…"

"Mine too."

Eragon put his hand on Hayden's shoulder. He hadn't wanted to interrupt them, but this was no time for some star-y eyed goodbye or even a conversation. The claw wounds on Pace looked nasty and he knew Hayden's leg should be dealt with.

He put his hand on Paces chest and began to heal the talons, weaving a complicated spell so to ensure the muscle and nerves healed correctly. When he had finished he tried to tend to Pace's other injuries, but he shook it off. "No, take care of him."

He turned to Hayden and placed a hand on his leg, murmuring a spell of similar length to heal his torn legs. By the time he had finished and was ready to move onto the next, he was exhausted. When he tried to heal him, Hayden grabbed his hand and pushed him away.

"Go and get some sleep. We'll be fine."

"That makes three times now that you saved my life, you know that?" Eragon offered with a smile.

"Well, if you would quit with the damsel-in-distress thing you got goin' on…" Hayden replied with a quick, slightly painful laugh. Pace and Eragon shot him a look. "I'll be fine." Hayden insisted.

"Okay…" Eragon answered hesitantly. "You need anything?"

"Ya, about four pounds of ground beef please. Cook it well done." Pace joked.

"That and some warm water, herbs, bandages, a needle and thread, and time. Just send it up to our room and go get some shut-eye." Hayden said in all seriousness before adding, "And get him a dress."

"What color?" Eragon asked, a laugh in his eyes.

"Sky blue to compliment his eyes."

"With or without lace?"

"With. Also, could it have pink flowers on it?"

"Okay, joke gone far past being funny." Pace growled.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch, princess." Hayden taunted. Pace shot him a glare. Eragon couldn't help but let out a chortle, covering his mouth when Pace's glare was suddenly stuck on him.

In all seriousness, he turned to his dragon. He knew it wasn't smart idea to just leave her here, hurt and vulnerable. He drew on the strength of Adurna and went around her, carefully healing each wound. He used magic to remove all the arrows, being especially careful with the one in her eye. Then he tried to think carefully if there was some way he could heal here eye and leg. He crafted a few more spells, one that created the allusion of an eye so that her enemies would not see the difference initially and the other knitted the muscle and repaired many of the damaged nerves.

He then crafted a spell, which would increase the efficiency of a drug, not letting it leave her blood stream so quickly before using a small pack he had on him containing a strong drug Angela crafted.

By the time all was said and done and he was back in his cousin's old room, Eragon was thoroughly and completely exhausted. He collapsed on the bed, his limbs shaking violently. In the final gift Hayden and Pace had given him, he found sleep for the first time in three days, shadows of the war, a less than sixty hours away flittering into his mind…

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"'Kay, we're almost there." Hayden said softly to his brother. Pace had one arm on his little brother, putting most of his weight for Hayden to carry. Truly, he felt bad for making Hayden help him like this, but he insisted. Pace knew he could handle it, but was still hesitant to make his brother do all the work.

While most of the pressing injuries Eragon had healed, Pace's upper legs had still been shot to hell and his back ached like no one would believe by his calm demeanor. Then there were the random cuts, bruises, scrapes, left shoulder dislocated, and one nasty burn to contend with. But he and Hayden had always faired on their own and even though it was tempting to just get all the wounds out of the way now, Hayden was right. It wasn't right to steal Eragon's energy like that. He needed some rest and he was the only one who stood any real chance against the red rider and Galbatorix.

He looked over to Hayden who climbed onto his own bed. He couldn't be more worried about that kid. He was doing it again. He was picking at his fingernails, tugging at his cuticles, licking his lips, and then playing with his ring. For him, it was what's equivalent to biting his lip or tongue or gritting his teeth. It was a routine he always did when he was trying to hide the fact that he felt like screaming in pain or anguish.

Hayden grunted slightly as he let his brother down onto one of the beds. He knew the blood earlier had not been a good sign, but could not bring himself to ask any more of the rider than healing his leg. Hayden had far less wounds than Pace, but most of them were more serious. He hid it from Pace, but he had a slight pain in his leg still which left him wanting to limp. He had a few minor scrapes, but the burn and blood score and most everything else had been healed, save his broken rib and a massive laceration on his tongue. He had been worried at first that the blood was coming from his lungs, but now he was almost sure it had missed his lung and that it was just his tongue bleeding. He still ached to move, to breath even.

Hayden could tell his brother was fairing as badly as he was. To anyone else, it would seem more like he took a fall and had scraped his knee than had a dragon's worth of weight crushing down on him, much less one with its claws digging into his body. But there was this glimmer in his eyes, this slight twitch they always had when he was pretending to play strong big brother. That and he always fussed with his overly kept hair when he was hurting. And right now, he could be mistaken for a girl the way he fussed with his medium length strands.

He knew in the back of his mind Pace was not fooled by the quick smile or the relaxed way he lay across his bed. He had made it his personal mission ever since Vexia to know everything, every little cue that his little bro was in pain. And Hayden did the same, paying attention to every movement to see the underlying meaning. Sometimes it seemed like Pace was reading his mind…

A solid knock filled the room. "Come in." Pace shouted out. A small, short boy, couldn't be over fourteen, came into the room pulling an oversized cart along with him. The boy was gone before either boy had a chance to thank him.

Reluctantly, Hayden got up to examine the cart. There were herbs and water and everything they could possible want to help heal them.

"Tell me there's some food." Pace yelled from the bed.

"We just ate two hours ago!"

"Excuse me if fighting off a dragon makes me feel like I could eat a cow."

Hayden gave a surprised look, blinking twice. "Well, you got your wish…"

"What?"

"Remember we asked for four pound of ground beef, well done?"

"No. Way." Pace said, salivating.

"Dude, that's just gross." Hayden replied, pointing to a string of saliva coming down from his mouth. Pace shrugged and sucked the strand back up with a loud slurp.

Hayden gave him a look. "What?" Pace said innocently.

"Are you—never mind…" Hayden rolled his eyes and continued to rummage through the stuff on the cart. He opened a small drawer and couldn't help but keel over laughing. His chest burned intensely, but he just couldn't stop. It was Pace's turn to give him a look.

"What's so funny?"

Hayden took a moment to reply, and even then his body was quivering with stifled chortles. "Here." He grabbed the item in the drawer and threw it at him.

Pace caught it and shot Hayden a quizzical look, pulling it away for further examination. "What the—"

"It's made special, just for you." Hayden taunted as Pace held the sky-blue, lace-and-hot-pink-flower-covered, ankle-length dress. It took all the control Hayden had to keep from suffocating from laughing so much.

Pace shrugged it off, trying to pretend he didn't care. But Hayden could see the way he picked at his dirty clothes with annoyance that that was as far from the truth as could be.

Which made him laugh even harder. That is, till Pace got up and smacked him in the arm.

"Hello, bleeding here…" He reminded Hayden.

"Right." Hayden said, wiping his eyes. Pace went to reach for something with his right arm but stopped with the wave of pain that hit him.

"God I think I dislocated my shoulder." He said eying it in all annoyance.

"I'll pop it back if you want." Hayden offered.

Pace shot him a quick smile to accompany the sharp nod of approval. Hayden poised his hands on his shoulder, Pace wincing slightly as he did. "Just make it quick…" He grimaced.

"Okay, on the count of three." He put a light pressure on his shoulder. "One. Two." He snapped his hands just as he reached two and was rewarded with a painful-sounding crack as Pace's shoulder popped back into place. Pace grunted, having not expected it so soon. He swung his shoulder back, testing it for a moment.

Hayden tossed him a glass of mead and set about fixing the rest of the supplies up. He quickly downed a painkiller-type herb himself as he was reminded by a sharp pain in his chest he too was hurt.

When he turned again to face his brother with a warm wash cloth in his hands, he saw a look on Pace's face he'd seen many times before. His brows were furrowed inwards and his eyes were far off. There was a slight frown painted on his face. It meant only one thing, he was going to try and play older brother again. "Hey Haydi?"

"Ya?" Hayden replied, already knowing what he was going to say.

"You know, you really scared me today. I thought I was going to loose you…"

"Not just a one way thing you know…"

"Ya, but still…I don't want you to fight when the battle starts…"

"We already went through this Pace. I'm not leaving you here alone…"

"Yes you are. I want you to go…"

"And just what do you expect me to do, Pace? Go to the Varden's new location by my self and hope I don't get killed trying to get there? Run off to the dwarves and just pray a clan war doesn't break out? Go and get drafted into Galbatorix's war maybe? Or perhaps you want me to run off into the Surda countryside, which is doomed anyway?" Hayden looked at him, fire in his eyes and Pace bit his lip but said nothing. "That's what I thought. You're stuck with me bro…You're not gettn' rid of me that easy…"

"Fine. But if you're stayn' here." He tossed his bag onto the opposite bed. "I'm on this one."

* * *

***Cowers behind a pillar* I couldn't help myself, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to half-blind Saphira, it's just once I started writing this chapter it just kind of took on a life of its own. And you have to admit, it is a great plot idea! So I admit, a lot of this was set-up, but action-filled set-up at least.**

**And just so no one starts getting mad at me, I have to admit, Hayden and Pace were loosely based off of Sam and Dean on my favorite show Supernatural, but don't worry. They aren't completely Supernatural's, as before I fell for "that darn show," as my parents call it, I had already had almost these exact plans for my boys. Their resemblance to Sammy-boy and Dean-o won't even last. I have plans for my boys. They will also provide a strong contrast...you'll see...**

**Evermore and many of my other works tend to revolve around family and how far someone will stretch for someone in their family. Evermore has a lot of base in Eragon and his family, from Murtagh to Selena to Roran even. Of course, I throw in a little of this and that, but that really is one of the main deals. Unfortunately, one thing his family lacks is my all-time favorite dynamic, the brotherly one. You know, the kind of relationship that you, I don't know, would go to hell and back to save your brother-plot. Like the one in Supernatural. Lol. Hayden and Pace are the Sam and Dean of the Eragon world, and they would go to hell and back for each other, though I don't think I'm going that far... So when I brought up the whole "good brothers" thing, I couldn't help but use SPN for inspiration. And who can blame me. That show is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.**


	36. Looming shadow

**Merry Christmas! Here's a good present. As promised, the updates are rolling out guys. I really love this chapter and there are a few scenes that are just…uhh… you'll see. I don't want to do spoilers when you are so damn close to reading it. That would be pointless…**

**Now we definitely have a song for this. It would be the masterpiece, Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell. It is such an amazing song and I really think it fits this fairly well, though this is one of those chapters it is hard to find a song for because it is such a different kind than I am used to writing.**

**Enjoy!**

That day was shrouded in a curtain of rain. The wind was howling, churning at violent speeds and reducing visibility to near zero. The once lush countryside around the capital had turned into a torrent of mud and debris. The capital itself almost seemed to quiver on its hillside front. The great Cliffside of Zade's Rock had been transformed into a perpetual waterfall.

It was to this violent setting that Hayden woke. He lay in bed for a moment, listening to the heavy pounding of the rains above. Thunder shook the sky and the sound of lightning cracking could be heard for miles. He could hear Pace snoring on the other bed. Nothing could ever wake that boy, not even with dragons fighting overhead, while Hayden sometimes was kept awake for hours by the activities of insects mere feet away.

He heaved a loud, frustrated sigh and without another thought left the room, knowing he would not be getting much more sleep tonight. The halls were bleak, empty in the shivering light of the torches fixed across the wall. He meandered around at a slow pace, not really intending on going anywhere. He paid little mind to what was going on around him, nor did he really think. He just walked, not really expecting much of anything.

Perhaps that is why when a shadow crossed his vision, he nearly jumped five feet back with surprise. He blinked a couple times, allowing his exhausted mind to focus. It was lucky the rain outside beat so, for if not for the cover it provided, whoever—whatever—it was would have surely heard him. But instead, he remained undetected…for the moment.

Hayden froze; since he hadn't been spotted, he didn't want to start now. Something about the way the figure moved, the way it acted…sent a shiver rattling down his spine. He clung against the wall peering around the corner, peering over his shoulder as the figure shifted slowly around the next bend. After it had disappeared, he waited a moment before running over to where it had gone.

Once more, he peered over his shoulder. The shadow paused for a moment, as though feeling that he was no longer alone and looked around. Hayden slung back, a little too fast, however, and wound up on the floor before he even knew it. He instantaneously swung up, his legs barely finding purchase underneath him as he did. He was more on his knees than on his leg as he looked around the corner.

There was no one. Not even a trance or a sound. Just the savage growl of the wind as it raked the roof overhead. He just sat there, his mind questioning if the figure had even been real to begin with or if it was just his imagination.

"What are you doing?" Hayden fell forward on his face, his nose smashing into the ground though he knew instantaneously who it was.

"Pace!" He yelled out, giving him a swift punch as regained his composure. He could feel a heavy throbbing coming from his recently patched-up rib and every other injury he had acquired during the fight little under three days ago flare up to be joined by a throbbing pain breaking across his face. He tenderly rubbed his nose, wincing as his hand touched his newest reason to be in pain. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No way. What would I do without you? But that don't me I can pass up scaring the crap out of you every once in a while…" Pace had on his most annoying smirk, the smug one that he was just lucky Hayden had enough control not to kill him for it.

"I thought you were asleep." Hayden muttered.

"Was. Was asleep. Woke up a few minutes ago…I don't know man, I just have this really weird feeling…"

"Ya me too…" Hayden said, his thoughts straying. He couldn't help but think about the figure he had seen. Could it actually be something or was he insane?

"Haaay-deee? You still with me?" Pace waved his hand in front of Hayden's face. When he still got no answer, Pace tried a new tactic. "Hayden wets the bed…"

"Ya, I'm still listening…" Hayden said detachedly before adding. "And you're still immature."

"And you, my boy, are an old prude." There was that smirk again. "What were you doing any ways?"

"I thought I saw—" He paused a moment, unsure of what to say or even that it was real.

"Ya?" Pace said, rolling his hand to indicate his little brother to go on.

"Never mind…" Hayden murmured. He looked up at Pace, a devilish look appearing on his face. "Where's your night gown?"

"Will you ever let that go?"

"Nope." He answered, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"I told you! It was a dare. Talbi made me…it was that or kiss Felicia." Both brothers shivered at the thought.

"Guess I can't really blame you…that it the lesser of the two evils…"

"Ya it is. You see her teeth?" Hayden suddenly froze as a distant sound found his ears through the rain. "Hayden?" Pace looked at him. "What's going—" Then he heard it as well. It was one continuous sound, starting out soft then getting louder and louder till it cut off. He blinked in surprise. "Was that—"

Hayden cut him off. "Shhh..." then at a whisper, he added. "Ya, I think so…"

A battle horn…

Both boys could feel their stomachs churn as another note rang out, louder than before and joined with the distant sound of footfalls as an army unlike that of which had been seen in over a century marched across the lands. No one said it, but both boys thought it. It was time.

The horn sounded once more as men started to poor in the halls and the chaos of three days before was both relived and redoubled. Hayden sprung forward, racing to the direction the sound was coming from. Pace tore after him, all the while shouting his name from behind.

Soon Hayden stood outside in the courtyard facing the place of his birth. The wind howled and the rain felt more solid than liquid and colder than ice. Lightning cracked in front of him, hitting somewhere in the distance and illuminating the flying forms of two dragons, one who's blood-red hide was obvious even in this storm and the other, a massive beast, just an ominous silhouette in the momentarily white skies. Bellow their distant forms, a black mass moved, like a plague, engulfing everything before it and leaving not but more of it in its wake. Even in the poorly lit night, the great bulk of the army was obvious.

Pace walked slowly to his brother's side, looking down on what very well could be their demise. He put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as they watched the crowd grow and grow. Both shook with every second and Hayden wondered if that was because of the rain or out of fear.

"This is really happening, isn't it." Hayden spoke softly with his eyes shut, his voice barely audible above the torrent of chilling rain continuously beating away at their battered flesh.

Pace said nothing, but squeezed Hayden's shoulder lightly. This really was it. The moment of reckoning, when all of their effort would be put in a battle everyone knew they would not—could not—win.

"Are you ready?" Hayden asked Pace.

"Definitely." Pace replied, the slightest quiver in his voice betraying his unwavering face.

As the horn sounded again the two brothers watched on, the feeling of their world crashing down like the rain around them, only hitting their hearts rather than their bodies…

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Eragon stared out the window, his armor tight on his body though not so much so to be uncomfortable. The Empire sat at their doorstep, men scurrying around as they too prepared to take the castle. The two opposing sides sat in a stale mate, each awaiting to see who would break and start the battle.

He could feel Murtagh and Thorn as they pined for him. He had hoped they wouldn't even think he was here, but he had come up with a back up. It was complicated, but he was confident he could do it. If he shielded his mind, he knew he would stand out like a sore thumb. None of his men knew how to shield their minds, nor could he entrust that if he taught them they would have as powerful of a barrier. He would still be obvious to them.

So instead, he was trying something different. Instead of thinking of a barrier to hide himself, he had collect a few mix memories from random, spread-out soldiers of varying ages, a few of his own from his youth, and fabricated a few more. He then stowed away the rest in the deepest corners of his mind. He prayed it would be enough to hide from their searching eyes.

But then, with a chill, Eragon felt something else as well. The presence of an alien mind so ancient, so powerful. He knew that this was not the time to confront him, but even still, being so close, yet not doing a thing about it, it was tantalizing. If he could separate him from Shruikan and Murtagh, this could all be over today. The battle, the war. And he would not have to leave his dragon.

But if he got himself caught, this would be it. Aiedail would only have Oramis, and who knew how long he would last. Chances were, with three riders on one side and only two, one weak and one young on the other, the Varden would surely loose. That and if they had Saphira, they would have the ability to create even more dragons…

Then it really hit home what this was all about, the problem Saphira had, just as the Empire was attacking. This wasn't about taking Surda or crushing the Varden. This was about capturing her…about having more dragon riders than the opposing side. The thought made him want to vomit, but it really made sense now. Everything did. This was no coincidence…

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, glaring hard out through the rain. He knew he could not perform the way he usually did with out garnering attention, but that did not mean he would not be taking as many of those bustards as he could.

He ran his hands through his hair once before placing a helmet over his face. He wore the anti-scrying charms and half a dozen other things to ensure that he could keep his charade up as long as possible.

He rose and went out of his cousin's room. Actually walking down to the front courtyard was a blur, he'd done it so many times it was now purely normal.

But as he stood out in the rain, letting the power of the storm take him in, he suddenly felt ready for this. Ready for the last stand. Turned behind him, not surprised to see the twelve he had chosen to be with him just behind him, their swords unsheathed. He saw Hayden and Pace midst them. He heard Pace murmur something to Hayden and Hayden said something back.

Struck him that while these two would be fighting side by side in today's battle his own brother would be one of the main ones they would be fighting. A slight tinge of jealousy hit him for a moment.

But now was not the time for that. He drew his new sword—he'd left Adurna midst his pack, for the blue blade once more would be obvious to anyone with eyes—and motioned Hayden and Pace to take their places at his side and the rest all lined up in groups of three. Behind the group appeared all of the rest of the warriors.

The goal was to take out as many men as possible and loose as few of theirs as possible. Each man was worth his weight in gold. Eragon drew in front once more and turned to face his men.

"You all know your jobs. And remember, don't be stupid. Don't think of me. Don't think of any locations of anything they could use against us. Not only are your minds open books to the riders but also anyone who can use magic and some who can't."

He gestured to the fifteen. Each gave him a sharp nod and started down to the gate, where all the archers were already poised and ready for the fight. Each group broke off into their instructed jobs till Eragon and his twelve were the only ones left on the stairs of the palace.

As he fell back into line with them, he prepared himself for what was to come.

"You ready for this?" He asked the brothers to either side of him.

"As we'll ever be." Hayden answered.

"It feels like a dream. I knew it was coming, but I didn't, you know?" Pace stuttered out.

Eragon nodded, suddenly glad he had insisted on healing the boys wounds the rest of the way an hour ago. If he couldn't have Saphira to fight with him, he was glad he at the very least had them.

With in seconds, a sound suddenly filled the air. The sound of arrows firing. The Battle Of Zade's Rock had just began…

**I couldn't have two super action-y chapters in a row, sorry to disappoint you. But as far as next chapter goes, oh wow. And I'd like to clarify something real quick here. The courtyard they were fighting in before is a completely different courtyard from the one facing the rest of the country. That one faces the cliffside instead. Also note that there is no such place in the book as Zade's Rock, it is a name I came up with purely for the purpose of my own story. And get ready you guys! The Battle of Zade's Rock is on its way as you receive your christmas presents from me, in a three-part update!**


	37. Zades rock part 1: Impossible odds

**Believe it or not, for a battle scene, this has been tough to write. I finally got a good idea and have been working my butt off to finally bring this to you. I wanted to take a different view on it. If you guys haven't guessed by my dancing around way of writing things, I'm trying different writing styles. This particular one is flashback. It starts off for the first two sections as post-battle. Then I'll go back to the start of the battle and explain how all this went down.**

**Songs to listen to while reading:**

**Hallelujah by Imogen Heap**

**Never Alone by Barlow Girl**

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The sky was lit with the fires of sunset. Clouds of amber and bright red mists swirling as the rose-gold sun slipped bellow the horizon.

Silence hung in the air, thick and unbreakable. Save the gentle rumble of the ocean and the soft patter of a gentle mist of icy rain softly falling, there was nothing. The wind and the thunder had calmed, gone along with the echoes of war cries and screams of dying men.

Down across the plains, the soil had been dyed maroon. In the center was a large boulder engraved with several ancient ruins from the people of old. Winding roads lead into a great city, lined with tall white walls and on a slight incline. Less then a mile from the city the plains dropped suddenly in a rocky, dramatic cliff. At the bottom was the churning navy sea.

The only major features were mounds of carnage and rusty weapons. Men, young and old, fallen. Heads without bodies, their faces forever twisted in silent screams. Sliced up corpses, testimonies to the pain. Arrows protruding from flesh, some had gone clean through the broken bodies. Bones protruding from arms of soldiers who were knocked over, dead before they hit the ground. Skin and bone and flesh pealed away.

The cliff was the worst. Bodies ripped and torn in such ways, which broke through the soul of any onlooker. Or would if there were any. A small, muddy river transformed to a thin waterfall down the cliff, a testament to the heavy rains. With it went sweat, tears, bodies, blood and hopes of so many, tumbling off the cliffs and dying the seas an unholy red. Such that when the sea frothed up into the sky as it met the rocks, the waters were tinged with a dirty salmon color.

Nothing moved. Nothing lived. Even the hungry ravens and hawks, which had eyed the men with ravenous eyes at the start of the battle, now lay still in their forever sleep. Most caught in the crossfire or shot down by angry soldiers, determined their comrades were not to be ingested by some scavenger. More would come sooner or later, but for now, the scene was devoid of all.

Despite the rains, a pillar of grey smoke rose into the sky above the city overlooking the battlefield. Across the walls were long poles and ladders, now vacant but once teaming with people. The gates were slung wildly open, nearly breaking off their hinges and nearby was a battering ram, dented and split.

The once flawless buildings were as scared as a warrior's hide. There was not a spot in its confines devoid of blood, the streets burnt in some extreme, blistering heat. The buildings were cracked, boulders of great granite and thick onyx rocks. Pieces of shale sprinkled the streets, piercing the bodies of many. Their bodies were nailed to the cobblestone.

The worst of it was that many of the men laying dead shared blood. Despite which side they were on. Brothers slain by their siblings. Sons, fathers, cousins, nephews. This was the ugliest face of the battle as friends fought over a war many of them hadn't understood. It hadn't mattered whether they were young or old, rich or poor, good or bad.

But every body who lie motionless on the fields and streets of Aberon had something in common. They were someone. They were a son or a father, a hermit or a husband. They were an enemy or friend, a soldier or pacifist. They came from somewhere and somewhere someone would receive a dreaded letter, recounting their heroism and self-sacrifice on the fields of Aberon.

Regardless, they were now all the same. Death is funny like that. In death, it didn't matter how gorgeous you were. Whether you were young or old. Who you were. What you did. How you died. A body was a body and would decay at the same rate. Sooner or later, the bodies would each melt into the ground. Each were mere piles of matter and would break down as such. Lifeless collections of water and minerals and cells. They'd never move and were only good now for sustaining less savory creatures.

From the hilltop, two brown eyes watched. From his own flesh protruded a single arrow, along with several scrapes, slices and bruised. The mist held chunks of his brown hair, turned grey in a spot from stress, plastering it to his skin. He closed his eyes, feeling them sting from dirt and blood gathering in them.

He could feel all the physical pain. The burn of his cuts. The ache of his muscles. The agony of his cracked hand. The rippling burn of the arrow in his shoulder. But try as he might, as he stood on that hilltop, he could feel no emotion. Nothing, just a hollow feeling in his stomach and an ache in his heart. Everything was so surreal, though he'd expirianced such things several times. He'd stood on the hilltop, watching twisted, similar scenes over and over. Why, then, did this feel so wrong?

He let the rain fall across his cheeks, streaming down them like the river bellow. Even to the point of being red and muddy, as a jagged gash extended from about the middle of his forehead to his left eyebrow. He opened his eyes once more, looking down to the capital in ruins.

He could feel an ache in his head, an emptiness. Long ago, such a thing would have been the normal feeling. But half of him was missing. In her absence, he still could picture her next to him. She was watching the scene before her with serene, wise blue eyes. She'd cover him in a thin blue, iridescent tent of wings, shielding him from the chilling rain. She'd light a small, warm fire and keep watch till morning. Her mind would never leave his; a gentle curtain of comfort shrouding his being from the pain.

Then again, he reflected, if he had her, none of this would have happened. As it stood, he knew it was a miracle they had lasted as long as they had. He reflected, grimly, that he could only wait for others till midnight. Then he would have to leave, solo or not. It didn't seem right. Down there, on that field, lay brave men. Men whom he had come to respect and admire. Men whom had saved his life over and over. Men who would never draw another breath again…

He shivered in the rain slightly, feeling his wounds sting. If he were further away, he would risk using magic and heal them. But where he was it was not such a great idea. He knew he had to at least get them bandaged up, but he couldn't tear his eyes from Aberon.

"I shouldn't be alive…" He muttered, watching a rainbow of brilliant color crest the evening sky.

The sun was setting rapidly by the time he began to come to. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but there wasn't too many other places he could be. His whole body ached and burned, but that was the least of his concerns. He dared to slowly open his eyes. The field had stilled long ago, but he knew there would be sharp shooters on the ridge, ready to cut down the few men whose injuries were not severe enough to kill them.

He could feel his clothes through his armor, thoroughly soaked to the bone. He looked down his own body, examining the large gash on his knee which had thankfully clotted and the spear which had clipped his side and pinned him. He rose his right hand up, flexing it till he realized where the pain was coming from. His ring finger wouldn't move and was slightly puffy. When his middle finger went to touch it, he was greeted by a constant burn.

_Damn it! Broken! _He thought through gritted teeth. He gingerly let his hand down and raise is other to his head as he sat up. It must have been quite a hit from the egg on his scalp. He took a deep breath and sat up, feeling a rush of blood flow into his head. At first, he wanted to lie back down, but then the moment of clarity hit and suddenly, all the pain in the world didn't matter. He felt like vomiting, looking at the light grey smoke rising from the broken.

His eyes flashed around the battle field, panic suddenly filling him. If he hadn't been thinking clearly enough, he might have screamed. Everything around him was dead, some more obviously than others. His eyes continued their search. Finally, they rested on something as a certain memory came to him.

It wasn't as if he ever thought they'd win. So while the sight before him was shocking, it was what was missing that finally pushed the bile out of his throat. It wasn't as if he ever thought they'd win. So while the sight before him was shocking, it was what was missing that finally pushed the bile out of his throat. His brother.

He cursed under his breath, rose to his feet, and began a crippled trudge toward the city, hoping the black skies were enough to hide his form.

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_Forty-four hours earlier…_

A tremendous concussion jarred the air as a massive boulder collided into the building, crumbling the structure into a pile of rocks. The lightning above cackled as a rolling spur of thunder filled the air. Above lightening and arrows rained down, meshing with the ever-falling, frigid precipitation.

Crows and two dragons circled above the city, both searching for one thing or the other.

The first was a great red beast, whose scales cast bloody prisms onto the ground bellow. His maw opened, sending a puff of black smoke between his lips. He veered off to the left with two great pumps of its translucent wings, the electric sky seen clearly through them. They tipped upward, catching the wind at the wrong angle and for a moment, they failed. But in a moment, the still-young dragon corrected himself.

The second made the first look like a chew toy.

He was massive, like a flying mountain, with scales so black he disappeared as he flew till lighting lit the sky. His tail thinned rapidly, ending in a ten-foot long whip covered in ivory spines. His wings were each massive black tents lined with little black veins. Each were nearly the size of his younger counterpart's torso. His black eyes watched the scene below impassively, not so much as turning his thick, corded neck to watch below. He flew effortlessly, with none of the occasional slip-ups of the younger. And what's more, nearly silently, though that didn't much matter in the chaos below.

From the ground came tremendous battle cries as men raised forward to the walls, occasionally getting picked off by a lucky shot. Their weapons tight in their hands and armor holding true, few seemed to be slowing.

In side the city was possibly even more chaos than the skies. Men raced around, bracing the gates and climbing up to the walls to shoot invaders down. They slipped and fell and overshot and undershot. It wasn't long before each could testify to a heavy coat of mud. Some for the gates, putting on their armor and, for a few, their clothes as they went. One soldier slipped on the slick cobblestone, bashed his bare head on the stone, and lay still. He would be known later as the first of Aberon's forces to fall.

The castle, where most of the men had been staying, was mostly vacant save a small militia of soldiers. Each eluded the confidence of worn soldiers. A formation of thirteen. Near the front was a noble dressed in bright gaudy armor. He was Arribane, the elder left behind to look after the Varden's greatest hope. Who, ironically, could not be picked out of the crowd standing behind the elder.

One of the soldiers shifted his weight back and forth. He caught the man next to him at just the wrong angle and the other soldier punched him in the shoulder.

"Pace! What was that for?" A voice rapidly whispered.

"You stepped on my foot."

"It was an acciedent. You didn't need to punch my shoulder!?"

"Actually I did. Seriously Haydi, grow a backbone!"

"Could you be any less mature? Come on! We've got enough to worry about!"

The soldier next to the two boys shot them a stern glare and turned his attention back to the front where Arribane had began plan details.

"Four scouts have been sent through the tunnel out of the city to meet with other forces. One consists of a little over a couple thousand dwarves. Another was sent to an Urgal encampment with an estimated million units. With any luck, both will join our cause by sunrise. There is a small force of elves reported to have been sent into Surda which another scout is looking for as well. The final is simply looking for anyone left too close to the city to have any shot at reaching the mountains.

"Our task here is to hold the city till they arrive or as long as we can. Kill as many of those bustards as you can. Don't hesitate. Don't think. Just do. Each of you also has a special purpose. Lead the dragons to you and keep him from your mind." His amber eyes flashed towards the regimen, looking right at him for a moment. For everyone knew who Arribane referred to as 'him.' "divide into groups of five and try to last as long as you can. We march to our deaths. For Aberon!"

His last words were met with a collective cheer as one of the boulders smashed into the upper tower. The men dispersed, each heading for the wall in their group. Hayden looked down the hill, at the thousands of faces surrounding Aberon. How could they even hold the city for a few seconds? There was so few to defend and so much to conquer.

He could feel the breath catch in his throat. The massive lump. The loud beating of his heart and the steady thrum of the rain against his armor. Pace patted his back. Hayden turned toward him, giving a feigned smile which mirrored Pace's. There was a glimmer of worry in there. In his eyes which had always seemed so unbreakable. The boys stayed in the courtyard, the last group left.

"You okay?" Pace said softly. "We don't have to do this."

Hayden looked around him at the other men. They were here to make a difference. So why should they leave. He shook his head. "No, you're wrong."

"You ready then?" He asked, voice colored with worry.

"No. I'll never be ready. But what the hell."

He took a step forward, his group following. As they made their way down the stairs, Arribane grabbed one of the men near the back, the same which had been glaring at them earlier. In a swift motion he had him behind the building, pinned against the wall.

"Let me go." He growled.

"And just what do you think you are doing, Shur'tugal." he flinched at the word. "You wait here with me."

"But—"

"But nothing. You put me in charge of your army in your stead. I'm ordering you to stay here, soldier. Wait for the elves. Or at least more men to cover you up. You'd be picked out of a crowd by those dragons in a few second."

"Those are my men down there. I won't make them fight alone. Besides, staying here would attract attention as well. No matter what I do, I won't stay secret for long."

"No, if you are on the wall, you will. Take it slow. Let a few gash you a couple of times. I won't have the Varden's greatest hope walking around the battle field down there."

"You can't order me, Arribane."

"I beg to differ, boy. I've been around for decades longer than you." Eragon looked away defiantly. "Fine. Make me this deal. You will wait till dawn to fight. Then you'll be on your own."

Eragon contemplated it for a moment. "Very well. Till dawn."


	38. Zades rock part 2: Reinforcements

**Hey, sorry for the lateness. It all boils down to a little form of torture teachers came up with called Trigonometry. I have a question. If my parents can't do it and it has been proven that most congress and people in general can't either, why the hell do I need to know it? It just makes my head explode.**

**Well, there's Trig and a new story I am writing that is 100% mine. I've had a spree of inspiration on it and so it's all I've had time to react on.**

**Anyways, enough bout me. You wanna hear about the battle. I must admit, god biggest writers block on this chapter. So I've half written things over and over till just recently, I decided to use part of a discarded form of last chapter. You fan girls are going to drool. This chapter switches perspectives a lot, from everyone's favorite tortured rider(and no I don't mean Eragon), to the brothers, to bits and pieces of a good many other people. It may get confusing a bit based on which characters it follows, but bear with me. If any of you have any good ideas about how to help it along I'm all ears.**

**Song: From Yesterday by 30 Seconds to Mars, You're Not Alone by Saosin**

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The deafening pounding of the rain was nothing compared to the extreme bone-numbing chill of it.

Murtagh couldn't help but shiver a little as Thorn glided above the battlefield. The red could felt it and through the link between them, Murtagh could feel him transferring his rider heat. Wordlessly, he thanked him as the great dragon pumped his wings again.

The blackness of the skies was lit up to a bright slivery-lavender color as another volt of lightning danced across the sky. In those second, everything below became crystal clear as he watched.

The Varden were using the typical tactic when they were ridiculously outnumbered. Archers wildly shot their weapons, praying it hit a target. Near the fringes, men fought from their trenches and holes. Latters were being pushed over and the men put special pressure on the catapults and the massive battering ram slowly making its way to the city.

Try as they might, the battle was already over the way Murtagh saw it. From their spies within the city, they knew that the Varden had not been expecting an attack on the city itself. The vast majority of the best men were on the north front, fighting with the elves that had suddenly seemed to think now was the time to start fighting. Murtagh could feel a little over a hundred men. Their greatest hope was divided, Eragon having been vastly overwhelmed by the loss of his dragon spiritually. The only real reason they were here was to collect the real prize along with the city and eventual complete possession of Aberon.

He was a tinge frustrated Galbatorix had to drag this out so much. His plan was to draw out other forces, so he could annihilate every major group in the country so his take over would be completed. Every so often, he could feel the men bellow waning as the rider king and his stolen dragon sucked up their strength to keep their pitiful adversary from being annihilated.

You _forget, boy, that as long as that accursed blue rider is hiding down their, we can't afford to kill them all. Kill him and she will die._ Murtagh gritted his teeth. How did he feel it was necessary to break into his mind all of the time just because he could?

As he repaired the barrier, he focused more downwards, sifting through the individual mind for the exceptional ones. For the most part, they all seemed insignificant, expendable. They all seemed to know Eragon was here; even a few of the weaker minds couldn't keep memories of the blue rider training them from his mind. He smiled. Eragon was just as powerful, if not more so than he remembered. Once they had found him, he wasn't going to go easy. Even without Saphira.

But then, he came across the mind of a man known as Rae. A different side of the great rider filled his mind. Memories this man had of living in a small room near the rider's. Rumors being spread from one person to the other of him loosing what he had. The constant solitude. The snappy demeanor. A certain detachment to his voice Murtagh hadn't heard since the battle of the burning plains and Murtagh's great revealing of their relationship.

It struck him then just how bad things really were. How much he'd fallen apart after loosing real connection with Saphira. For the first real time, he found himself wondering what it would be like to be in Eragon's shoes. Loosing contact with Saphira. Having her almost kill him several times. The revelation of a battle which would have been painful without the knowledge that afterwards, should they loose, he'd loose a lot more than just Surda. He realized then the truth and cursed mentally.

Unfortunately, the rider king had been listening to the whole thing. He could just imagine the smirk on his face. _Very insightful, Murtagh. You're probably right too. That's why we need to find him before he does anything stupid._

He nodded, not replying to the rider king. His eyes went back down to the battlefield and back to searching minds. As his mind sought out soldiers, he couldn't help but watch a small group, fighting near the fringes of the battlefield. Well, not most of them, but a pair of rather young looking men. Their moves were so practiced, carefully orienting themselves around each other. The kind of connection which only forms after, what had to be a lifetime, to form. One had a rusty old blade that he—while obviously skilled with it—seemed to realize how bad his weapon was. The other had his helm ripped off, revealing scruffy brown hair.

Murtagh couldn't keep himself from watching. Scruffy slashed out at a man near Rusty, his blade cleaving through right beneath the armpit. All Murtagh could do was imagine his howl of pain as Rusty brought his own blade down on the man's neck. Both boys seemed to acknowledge each other before tag teaming a particularly big man near by. Scruffy met his blade, striking out at him while Rusty zipped to his side, his blade catching the man in the leg. Off balance, the older man turned his attention to a group of soldiers who'd spotted them and rushed them.

Rusty seemed at ease with his opponent, dodging the worn man's blows with half way decent speed. The man, frustrated, began lashing out rapidly, forcing Rusty to parry the blows much more than he had before. Rusty made a small lunge to him and Behemoth sent his blade crashing to the ground. Murtagh could just imagine the "uh-oh" as Behemoth advanced him. In a swift motion, Rusty managed to role under the man and grabbed his blade, though not before Behemoth's blade grazed his back bad enough to leave a bruise tomorrow. He thrust the blade into Behemoth's back and the man fell to no more rise.

Taking up Behemoth's sword in place of his own, Rusty rushed one of the group of three currently focused on the younger. He took the one by surprise, a common farmer no doubt, and soon there were only two. Scruffy seemed much less skilled than Rusty. His movements were sure, calculated. He could see him taking careful aim at even motion, parrying and retaliating at such a pace; he knew that the other man couldn't last much longer.

He suddenly turned towards Scruffy, who had lost his blade and was being pursued by the other soldier. Rusty quickly turned back to his opponent. Tapping his side with the blade rapidly. This forced the man to parry frantically, but left his opposite side wide open. With his free hand, Rusty punched his face, knocking him several feet backwards. Momentarily disoriented, he quickly made use of his time and stabbed through the man's chest.

Not even bothering to watch him fall, Rusty turned towards Scruffy to give him aid. This is where he made a mistake. With a powerful lunge, the man Rusty had been fighting sliced his knee open. The lightning crackled again, alighting the scene. Even from this height, Murtagh could see the blood gushing out as he turned and stabbed the man again, this time watching the life drain from his eyes.

Scruffy seemed, he could tell, was distracted by Rusty's injury, his movements less rapid as he occasionally glanced to his comrade. Who ever these boys were, they had a deep affinity for one another. Despite his gushing injury, Rusty was soon at Scruffy's side. The two turned to each other and nodded and took off to different sides. The man couldn't make up his mind who to try and hit. He aimed for Scruffy, knowing he didn't have a blade. But this allowed Rusty to get too close and for it, he got a deep stab in the ribs.

Retrieving a sword from the ground, Rusty and Scruffy both rushed him. Both boys' blades managed to cut through his armor. Blood spurted from his mid section and he fell to the ground. Rusty and Scruffy let the rain clean their blades for a moment. Then, despite Rusty's seeming unwillingness, Scruffy dragged the older man away past the battle field and began to clean up the wound.

_Ah, how sweet…_ Galbatorix snarled in his mind suddenly. _I leave you to look through the minds and take my half. And when I find you again, you are just sitting there watching those two fight. What? Does it remind you of you and Eragon?_

Murtagh didn't answer. But he didn't need to. It was written across his face and stained his mind. It was obvious that they were brothers or something similar and this brought back intense memories of him and Eragon making their way across the country, fighting back to back. He wished they could be like this. Like Scruffy and Rusty.

_Listen, boy, work out your personal life later. I need you to search their minds. They seem to be the best soldiers out of the bunch. Not saying much, but I do think your brother would probably be more likely to focus on good men. If you encounter any resistance, any at all or things you are thinking are suspicious, take them._

Murtagh didn't truly give him much of an answer, but the rider king knew he'd take care of it. With a sigh, he focused his attentions on the brothers and was instantly met with intense resistance. One of the boys, Scruffy he figured, even lashed out. But the guard came from much more than just them. _Eragon._ Murtagh instantly though. This would be fun…

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"Pace!" Hayden yelled as he himself moved out of the way of the angry looking blade. He watched as his brother's life blood spilled onto with the white light of sky electricity lit the sky. He was about ready to run over there, heedless of the soldier chasing him. But Pace brought his blade down heavily and watched the man's last death throws.

With a limp to his stride, he tried to make his way over to Hayden, who had his hands busy. Weaving in and out of the trenches they built to protect them, Hayden was nearly exhausted. He fought to get back over to where his blade had fallen, but the man wouldn't let him advance on the actual battlefield. Nor did he allow him a break. Every time he started to get close, his adversary threw an arrow at him. While not being shot from a quiver, that didn't mean they couldn't hurt, he reflected as he vaguely felt the arrow lodged in his ribcage burn. It was just the wrong spot.

Pace's leg burned painfully, but he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. How could he with his little brother struggling to gain back his weapon?_ Suck it up, Pace._ He thought to himself. He focused on the sound of the rain. On his brother's eyes and his adversary's blade. And slowly, he was able to put aside the pain.

It didn't take much for him to be at his brother's side. The man before them seemed a little overwhelmed that there were two of them now when he had already been having such trouble with one. Seeing Hayden's blade right behind him, less than a few lengths away, Pace turned to look at Hayden. Hayden's body was tense and they both gave a slight nod.

With in seconds, their unspoken plan was in action. Hayden went to the left and Pace to the right. Both stayed in a decent range for the overwhelmed soldier. He lunged for Hayden, obviously less eager to tango with a new opponent who had a sword and only the gods knew what fighting style. It was all Pace needed to slide his blade through the floppy, ill-fitting armor, cutting into the man's ribcage.

A short cry escaped from his lips as Pace glanced to Hayden, briskly jogging despite a heavy pain in his leg. Not a scratch. He beamed. Hayden gave a half smile back, worry painting his features slightly. The boys repeated the strategy they had used before and received outstanding results, both boys' blades sliced his sides open, nearly separating him into two messy pieces.

Drenched in rain, the two boys took a moment to marvel at their accomplishments. True, the rest of their group had gone further in. But a little less than twelve corpses lay on the ground, all from them.

"Not bad work for one leg huh?" Pace joked.

Hayden glared. "So not funny dude."

"Sure it is. I mean, I walk like Dreyor. You know."

"Of course Pace. Now, let's stop you from loosing a leg like Dreyor did."

"Oh come on Haydi. I've dealt with worse."

"Not on a battle field you haven't." He half-lead, half-dragged Pace toward a far away trench.

"You know, I never did learn what happened to that crazy old coot." Pace offered, obviously trying to take his mind off the pain as Hayden roughly cleaned his wound.

"I think he drowned in that small pond out back." Hayden answer. "Dunno how. I mean, the thing was less than an inch deep."

"You ever dunked your head underwater just to see how long you could hold your breath before the spots start to go across your eyes?"

"No." Hayden grimaced at the wound. Only a scratch. Sure. And the ocean is only a puddle.

"Huh, must just be me."

Hayden felt several tiny pieces of metal lodged in. "This is going to hurt, Pace. Hang in there."

Pace nodded, though his mouth kept spewing out completely unrelated things. "You remember what Mom told us rainstorms were?"

"No, I don't." Hayden lied. It was one of Pace's stories and he knew Pace knew Hayden could recite it in his sleep. He yanked hard and Pace grimaced.

"She said," he grunted again as Hayden pulled another out. "That it was the ocean's gift to the sky." Hayden ripped another out. "That Silver Lake was the" he growled at Hayden. "You know, could you be a little more careful? This is my knee you're playing with. Not some butchered piece of meat." At the last word, Hayden pulled out the last shard.

"Okay. I'm done with that. Now what bout Silver Lake?" he said as he tore a swath of cloth from his pant leg and started wrapping it tightly.

"Silver Lake was a combination of rain and sky, with waters so light and smooth, they feel like down to swim it. The ocean realized, however, that by keeping this secret only in the lake, the rest of the world couldn't enjoy it. So they made rain."

"I remember all those times, Pace. When we'd just go out in the rain, just to feel it fall on us and go back in." he smiled. "We'd get the floors so wet, Mom would scream at us for hours. Not that we cared."

Even with Hayden going along with it, Pace soon spotted the tip of the arrow in his breast. Without a word, he put his hand on it, mouthing "one, two, three' but ripping it out before three. That was always the trick. It always hurt more when you knew when to expect it.

Pace glanced up at the sky, noticing for the first time how much lighter it had gotten. Though it still rained moderately, it looked as if it was almost over.

"You smell that?" Pace asked. He sniffed the air again. "Jeeze what is that awful smell."

"Ha ha. I have to point out it's not only me, you know. You don't smell like roses and daisies either."

"Seriously Haydi. I didn't mean you." He gagged. "What in the name of all that is good is that?"

Hayden finally smelt it. "My word, it smells worse than that time you tried to cook."

"Hey, I never said I was a chief. Just that I might be able to fix us something better."

"Better than what? Dirt? Cause I'm sorry, you don't even make that. Plus you nearly burnt down a whole forest. In the wetter season too."

Pace gained this much more serious expression. "Get down!" he said, pushing his little brother down and piling protectively over him.

The most ominous roar filled the area. As the sound died, Pace grabbed Hayden and started crawling. Two seconds later Pace bumped cheeks with a cruel looking weapon…

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Thorn seemed more than ready to go after the brothers. He had grown rather bored just flying around, watching people trying to spill each other's guts. No body really seemed to acknowledge him. Him? You know, the massive red, fire breathing lizard?

Maybe they thought if they ignored him he might just go away. No one even shot high enough to try to hit him even.

Murtagh wheeled around the trenches. He knew they were in one of these, but in the dark, he had to wait for the lightning to guide his way. He hated the fact that it was raining. Otherwise, he'd just have to have Thorn breathe fire. As it was, he could barely see.

All of the sudden, an arrow shot straight through Thorn's wings, creating a massive dripping hole. In a normal fight, he would accredit this to mere circumstance. But the shot was so precise, hitting Thorn in the worst place possible. You would need knowledge of dragons in order to be able to pull off a shot like that. And the only dragon they had to learn from was Saphira.

As it was Thorn had trouble staying aloft. He knew he'd have to land somewhere and give his dragon a moment. He could tell from Thorn's storming mind he wanted to go after who ever it was, so he mentally noted where the arrow came from and wheeled Thorn toward a small grove of trees.

As they flew, something was bothering Murtagh as he looked down. Something was different. He watched as a group of men charged each other, bluntly ramming their weapons into one another. They clashed hard, most did, and several from each side met the earth prematurely.

Then it struck him what was going on. There were more on the Varden's side now. Much more. But as he sifted through the presences around him, he knew there was less living then there were at the beginning. Not more. It dawned on him. No reinforcements. These men wore the garb of the Imperial soldier, but fought on the side of the Varden. In a shocking turn, they switched sides!

The rebels had stripped their helms from their heads and fought with more dedication and passion than any other. The ones who rebelled seemed vicious, taking down man after man while scanty archers picked off others.

The catapults had been taken out. The Empire's anyways. The best machinery remaining on the field was the ram, which had been abandoned as the men turned on each other. The final major change was that Galbatorix was missing.

As Thorn touched down in the groove, for the first time, he began to have doubts they would win this.

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From the wall, he shot arrows, moving at what was a lethargic pace for him. He missed a few shots and tried to keep them from seeming too perfect. That all stopped when a scene caught his eye.

Hayden and Pace, near the edge of the battlefield, slowly making their way to a trench. They were completely unaware to the fact that Murtagh was watching them. Had been for quite some time. For they were the only worth while thing watching out there and he kept circling.

He extended his presence, adding to the protection of their minds. He could feel the exact moment Murtagh probed their minds. He thought it was funny how the red rider could claim he loved privacy so much but had thoroughly probed his mind an hour ago, obviously not too concerned with the stuff he insisted on keeping a secret.

He couldn't help but let some of his own anguish about Saphira spread to the rider. Murtagh had no idea exactly how crazy he was about that whole situation, but he'd given him enough of a taste.

Still, he knew the wards on Hayden and Pace wouldn't last long if he intended to collect him. He had to wonder if he made this shot, would Murtagh know it was him?

As Murtagh neared their hiding spot, he realized he didn't have a choice. Aiming carefully, he brushed the feather on the arrow gently. With a fresh sounding twang, the arrow spiraled off, striking its marks perfectly. He couldn't help but give a soft smile as his elf ears picked up the roar beneath the rain and war cries.

Eragon suddenly truly saw the battle field. They were suddenly evenly matched! He smiled as he realized what had happened. These men didn't all want to be fighting for Galbatorix…

Screw his promise to Arribane. The way he saw it, the sky was getting lighter, there were more men covering him, and staying on the wall, now that he shot Thorn, would draw more attention than going to battle. He drew his borrowed blade and shield, hoping he could soften the blows enough that he wouldn't break it too fast.

He ran down the stairs and popped the secret passage, ready to go fight.

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Klieg was just a poor farm boy when the troops stole him and every other man in town. The way he saw it, this was pay back for what they did to his sister as he beheaded an imperial soldier at least a head taller.

He never was a big fan of war, more interested in just living as his ancestors had for years. But now he'd been working with it, there was no feeling in the world like destroying another man to save the country he now dreamed of living it.

Nearby, Fayez gave him a quick smile, her cropped hair damp and dingy from the march. She hadn't been willing to leave him once the two had met in route. This had been her plan all along. They just hadn't expected half the army to join once they turned.

Still, with two dragons around, nothing was certain yet. Except that this fight was getting good. Klieg ducked from the blade of the man right behind him, allowing Fayez a clear shot at his neck with an axe someone had been carrying. His throat erupted into a fountain of blood and he gurgled loudly as Klieg parried another man.

He could feel the rain letting up as the sky brightened, soon a stark white. Still, the fight raged on.

That was when he heard it. Quiet at first, of course, but growing ever steadier and louder. A horn. Wait, two horns. One had a rich homey sound, similar to the one the Varden had blown at the start of the battle. The other was rich and musical. Like he had ever heard before. It was far too beautiful to be mortal.

He turned to the western side, where all the noise was coming from. But it wasn't just him. The rebels separated from the rest and both lines turned to see two companies on the hilltop. The men were in the traditional wear of Surda, flaunting their colors brightly. Then there was a small company of elves, each wearing light armor but from their confident faces, strong armor.

As the two sides formed and sized one another up, he turned to Fayez and kissed her on the hand. The pre-battle was over. The real one was just beginning…

* * *

**You guys do remember Silver Lake, don't you? Or has it been too long...Jesus. I was writing the next chapter and looking through my work and realized I contridicted myself yet again. You guys probably didn't catch it but I fixed it anyways.**


	39. Zades rock part 3: Hope

**Yay for finally breaking through my writer's block on this battle! I had an actually pretty easy time writing this. And I threw in a little of everything, despite it being a battle scene. There's a sort of Star warzy scene coming. Actually my favorite part any of the few times I've watched it. So, just putting a little disclaimer on it now, it actually wasn't star wars inspired. I just realized after it reminded me of that. But I threw in a bit of comedy, drama, lots of thick description, and finally, a little light on how things went from here to the aftermath listed in part 1.**

**One more part of the battle left, so this is my one to be a little more light hearted before it becomes angst city as one of the brothers goes missing, Eragon is terrified for Saphira, and the battle, in general, is lost.**

**Songs: End of the World by Sugarcult, By my side by Three Doors Down**

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Though still outnumbered, things looked in their favor. The rains had stopped, leaving a bloody mist rising into the dawning sky. The mud, where it was mud and not vast shallow ponds and rivers of crimson running off of Zade's Rock into the ocean, was debilitating. Every motion anyone made was guaranteed to be accompanied with sucking sounds and more effort than you should use. No matter how light on his or her feet someone was, speed would not be the deciding factor. And being that every Surdian and elf hadn't had to trudge over half the country just to get here, they were much more effective. Plus they had much more energy and resources to deal the mud.

And for all Thorn's fearousity, without the black rider around he wasn't so impressive that he seemed untouchable. And the Imperials seemed to acknowledge this. The rise in the number…fighting more evenly had them unsettled. They had been fighting lazily if at all. This new army had them unnerved, shifting and fidgeting continuously.

Both armies reformed their lines and brace their weapons for the onset of the fight. As he too wiped the blood and grime from his blade, Eragon felt an almost tangible change in the mood. A feeling there hadn't been since before that day Hayden had smashed into him and shattered the lightened mood there had been before.

Hope.

Hope that this wasn't the end. Hope they could push back the Empire for just a little longer. Hope Surda wasn't a lost cause. Hope for their home. Hope for Saphira…

Both lines seemed to be waiting for something. Some invisible cue to start. Waiting for their leader or a word. Anything. Someone needed to do something.

And it took all the control Eragon had not to be that someone. He wanted so badly to just break through the tightly packed crowd, rip his helmet off, and take control. He wanted nothing more than to be at the front of the line, calling on the strength of his men. Telling the archers to fire and the men to march.

But he didn't. Nor did he need too. A muddy, dingy, cut up Arribane rose to the lead of the army. Despite his state, you'd swear he was wearing the finest clothing in the world from the way he moved. There was just something in his presence. But also something a bit unsettling for Eragon. Like he felt he was higher than him. Though he couldn't deny he definitely had what it took to be a leader. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but just the rich tone of the man's voice still lit a spark in the eyes of every man around him.

The other commander wouldn't need to say a thing for his men to be motivated for battle. He only needed crimson blade, translucent wings, and a simple snarl to motivate his men. Both fear and awe could easily push them. He was ever present, effortlessly gliding over the front. The great red beast let out a gruff roar.

As he soared close to Eragon's part of the field, he couldn't help but stiffen. He would be ready should he choose to attack and unconsciously, he reached out in his mind, ready to break down the magical barrier if need be.

Despite his alert state, Eragon couldn't stop himself from locking his eyes on the man sitting in the gap between Thorn's ivory spikes. He wondered if Murtagh were to look down right at this moment, what he would see. If he would know who Eragon was instantly or if he would just be another soldier in the crowd. Another kid sucked into the battle.

Eragon was slightly startled when Murtagh turned his head and made eye contact. He swore he was looking directly at him. This was over. He would come down and take him. Knock him out with a word now and fly to Urabaen without looking back. He turned away, staring straight ahead, readily preparing the word on his lips to stop the red rider…

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Murtagh flew high above the action-less battle, awaiting the stalemate's break. He eyed the new army with a tinge of dismay. They had played into Galbatorix's hands perfectly. He hadn't told him how, all he revealed was his basic plans. Unfaithful, brave men were weeded out. Surdians who still stayed to protect their nation were to be annihilated. Even a company of elves, a little over thirty; each worth at least twenty men. And then there was the greatest prize, hiding somewhere on the battlefield. The question was where. What he had been told made it clear he needed to be separated before the plan to work.

He scanned the crowd with mixed emotions. While he didn't want to find him for obvious reasons, part of him really did. What was coming… if he couldn't…his stomach churned, unwilling to finish the thought. He couldn't…not now.

He looked up and down the rows of men. Each had their eyes fixed ahead, watching the lines of their opponents for any sign of motion. All accept one. He was near the center, one of the few who wore a helmet that exposed his eyes. Compared to the men around him, he wasn't expecially large or tall. Based on his body, Murtagh knew he was young; though his eyes had a look in them that aged him far beyond his years. This was no normal soldier. His stance was too well placed; his feet splayed out in such a way even a hurricane looked as if he couldn't be moved. His muscles were just a little too rigid, as if he knew he was being watched. The era of fear normally created by Thorn's presence was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he seemed confident, as if he had been around dragons a lot…

And he was looking right at him....

But it wasn't just these things, which were non-condemning. It was the way he shifted as he turned his head back. The way he took a subtle step forward. It was the way he held his blade and even the type. The slight wisp of bronze hair which remained in his face even after he attempted to stuff it behind his helm.

He tentatively reached out with his mind toward the soldier; knowing that if it was him, he needed to move fast. He sorted through the minds around him, concentrating on him. He found the tendrils of his mind and—

The sudden twang of an arrow filled the air, followed by Thorn's furious scream. It was enough to through his concentration completely. Before he could attempt to reestablish it, Thorn was erratically diving towards the way it had come from. His eyes were filled with sheer blood lust as Murtagh watched his dragon's blood rain down. He knew it had to be lodged pretty deep in his stomach by the pain echoing through their connection.

Within a few moments, they were half way across the field. But unfortunately for Thorn, his roar had finally broken the silence. Men trudged forward, their feet sinking in the deep mud as their cheers rose up. With each stride, the armies closed on one another and all across the field came calls for archers to fire. With a tangible crunch, both sides converged. The entangled armies paid no heed to the dragon above.

Seeing his original plan had been foiled, Thorn settled for dousing the area in a scalding stream of flame; not caring about who it was he burned just as long as he burned someone. The mud of the area instantly dried, crackling and carbonating in the intense heat. A wave of steam shot up as the soldier's clothing and a small pond dried up. As his maw closed, the sounds of the soldier's cries brought him his satisfaction. Some lay unmoving, cooked in their armor. The rest weren't so lucky. The un-helmed mens' hair had gone up with the flames, leaving sparse, charcoaled patches if any. Their bodies were now shrouded in welts and disfiguring angry red wounds.

Thorn let out a gloating roar, his head quickly swinging back to Murtagh with a toothy grin and a playful gleam in his eyes. Serves them right. _Next time their moms tell them they should wear a helmet, maybe they'll listen._

"You're such a dork." Murtagh murmured under his breath.

_So are you, hatchling. Loved how you chose to mumble that so quietly. You forget I am in your head, boy._ Thorn let out a chuckle.

Murtagh rolled his eyes. _Seriously, I want us to agree on something._

_And what is that?_

_No cheesy battle puns. Or comments like that._

_Okay…_

_Not just now, Thorn. Ever._

Thorn let out a low whine. _Oh come on. It's a way to release stress. You really should try it. You're way too tense. __Murtagh growled, but Thorn went on as if he didn't hear a thing. __Besides, if we are to be forced into this, we might as well put aside our emotions, pretend everyone down there is Galbatorix, and have a little fun._

Seeing Thorn wasn't going to stop if he said no, Murtagh relented. _If you must. But you only get one per battle or I block you out._

_Ten._

_Two._

_Eight._

_I'm not going any higher than three, Thorn. It's not up for negotiation._ Thorn reluctantly nodded.

_Murtagh, you need to lighten up._

_Thorn, you need to grow up._

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As soon as the two lines converged, Eragon made his way towards the concentration of elves, knowing he might stand out less there. He was almost sure Murtagh had known it was him, and if not for someone shooting Thorn, he would now be battling the red rider and his dragon. He tried to make it seem subtle, like it was a mere accident. He still kept his pace down, though once he began to get closer to the elves, he couldn't keep himself from moving faster.

He had tons of energy yet. His blade was so much lighter and his movements purposefully slower. He had to be careful not to over exert himself and shatter the blade. The mud was the most tiring part for him. Everywhere, it was either thick and sucking as quicksand or slick and impossible to keep traction on.

A scruffy man rushed him, a certain cockiness in his stride. He stood near a half a foot taller than Eragon and much broader. His armor was lighter, as if he didn't feel he needed it. Thick, corded muscles rippled as his blade crashed into Eragon's.

Eragon had just enough time to roll his blade back a bit, so to keep it from shattering. The man was quick to make another move, forcing Eragon to parry; their blades colliding dangerously near his neck. He withdrew a bit, allowing him to advance on Eragon.

Getting a little annoyed, Eragon quickly went on the offense, his blade flashing out too fast for the other man to block. It struck the side of his armor, slicing through and leaving a long, gaping wound across his chest. Next second, the man's sword had smashed into his, shattering it across the battlefield. Off to the side, a man cried out as a splintered smashed into his stomach.

Eragon cursed, jumping backwards to avoid his adversary's blade. Eragon eyed a blade right behind the man and made a rush for it, moving just a little too fast for him to be human. He made a duck and roll, slipping under his weapon and between his wide spread legs. He grasped the handle and flew at his opponent. The surprised man blocked barely in time, his own blade denting.

Angered, Eragon rapidly slashed forward, striking his opponent several times till he was breathing heavily. With a simple flick of his wrist, the sword flew off to the side, embedding heavily into the soil.

Before he could get in the final deathblow, a stray arrow struck him. It smashed deep into his skin and he doubled over, his face landing in the cold mud.

The other man rose, no doubt thinking he was dead. But just as he approached him, Eragon's sword swung at him, striking him in the gut. Fresh blood spurted out as the man's face went ashen. He fell to his knees as Eragon rose, ripping the arrow from his breast.

He looked up, terror in his eye. "What kind of man are you!?" he stammered out.

Eragon mercilessly plunged his weapon into his gut, digging it deep in. He pulled the man close to him, murmuring in his ear. "Some people call me Shadeslayer."

As he pulled back, letting the carcass slide off his blade, a look of understanding and pure fear crossed the man's face. He crashed to the earth, face down in the mud.

Without another glance his direction, Eragon turned to see two men rushing at him. After seeing him kill the other man, they had obviously realized it was safer to go in together, to tag team him.

It would be the last mistake they would ever make, he grimly realized.

For a moment, his mind went to Saphira. Her warm presence. Her bright blue scales. Then the thoughts started of her being in a worse place than she was now.

_I'm doing this for you._

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As the day wore on, both the Varden and the army began to have a system. The battle was taking longer than either side expected and many men were locked in combat for excessive amounts of time, evenly matched with their opponents. Every so often, a man came up to a group of soldiers and lead them back to camp or the city depending on what side they were on. The men would eat, drink, stitch up their wounds, repair their armor and weapons, and leave all at a rapid pace which often left the armor ill fitting and their stomachs under filled.

Near noon, a young soldier by the name of Arc, dragged his blade across the earth as he and his group were lead to the underground pass into the city. He was dead tired. His muscles burned and he had to struggle to keep his eyes open. From the endless, grueling march here, his feet were covered in blisters and ridiculously pruned from the rains. There wasn't one inch of him that didn't hurt at least a little and covered in a thick coating of mud. But for all of his bruises and cuts and even the gaping wound created by a spear, the greatest pain wasn't physical.

In the wake of battle, dying faces dance across his mind, haunting him every time he closed his eyes. Real one did the same as he opened them. All he could possible think about was blood squirting from someone's jugular across his face.

It was funny; when you were fighting, you barely gave what you were doing a conscious thought. No matter what atrocities you committed. It was something of a trance. But your eyes saw everything. Every ounce of blood, every body crashing down. The men you murdered when they were weaponless. And they made damn sure to torment you with every little moment afterwards.

But the most horrible sight Arc saw wasn't committed by his blade. His father had also been taken, despite his older age, when Galbatorix came to the village. Every night, he complained to Arc about the impending battle. How unfair it was that they couldn't choose their own side. When men first began to strip off their helms and turn to fight the invaders, Arc had been only too eager to join. But his father, who had been so against fighting for Galbatorix; who raised him to be brave and stand up for what he believed in; his helmet remained firmly on his head.

Hurt, Arc turned away, turning to another man to begin his own battle. He wouldn't fight his father even if he had to. At first, Arc had stumbled with the blade and he was darn lucky he wasn't fighting a more experienced soldier. But at last he made his first kill. He prayed this would make his father get up the courage to fight himself and turned to see if it had worked. But he hadn't.

Not three feet from Arc lay his head, lobbed clean off. His helm still firmly on his skull.

It was the most terrible sight he'd ever had the displeasure to witness. And as the leader lead them through the dark tunnel, complex and vast for those who didn't know the way, it was just what he was seeing every five seconds.

With in a few minutes, the leader popped the hatch of a trap door; almost invisible from the angle Arc was at. As he and the other men gazed upward, taking in the fresh sunlight, which had so thoroughly eluded them earlier, Arc was struck by a terrible scent. His hands flew up to his nose. He wasn't sure what to call it, but he and the others grunted their disgust.

As Arc finished climbing the latter, a hand reached out to his to help him to his feet. It was gray and covered in little tuffs of hair and scars. Strange bands ran up the length of the arm. Each with little red bands about two centimeters apart. The final one, right before the elbow, wasn't fully covered in the little bands yet. Arc looked up toward the figure, taller than him by far. His head covered the sun, obscuring his face and shrouding his back in a halo of light. But he could still see the horns, thick and etched into odd shapes.

Intimidated, Arc turned away, drawing back his hand. But behind him were even more. These he could fully see. Their eyes were small and dark. Irises no lighter than cherry wood. Their ears were larger and slightly pointed. He was startled a little when they moved to catch a sound behind them. Their features were gruff and wild. Their faces covered in war paint in designs as wild as the cravings on their horns. Each had a spiked steel tip on the tops of their horns.

He'd only ever seen something like this once before. When he was five, a group raided their village. While none of his family was harmed, Arc had seen first hand what Urgals could do. This was why his hand flew to the hilt of his weapon, ready to fight for his life if need be. He was vaguely aware of many other doing the same thing; some even going so far as to unsheathe. A few were a bit more comfortable, their eyes being the only thing which belied their nerves.

On the street, there were two people who seemed fairly okay with the Urgals. Both stood intricately oriented around one another, clearly ready to protect each other from anything. Arc had no doubt they would both lay down their lives for one another. One had kept hair, worn brown eyes, and walked with a slight limp to his stride. Opposite him, the other man had scruffy blonde hair, an odd birthmark staining his uncovered left hand, and flinched whenever he was forced to move his left arm ever so slightly.

Arc vaguely wondered if they had been wounded in battle or if they were older wounds. Either way, both men looked as if they were getting a bit bored with being stuck up here.

"Don't worry." The younger one said. "They're on our side."

"We'd never join them again." A gruff voice said, coming from the one behind him. "They killed more of our people in one battle then we manage in a year."

Somehow this did not truly do well to reassure Arc. Still, he couldn't argue with more forces being on their side as a troop of over fifty climbed down the hatch to go and join the battle.

"You look tired." The older man said. Arc was surprised to find he was specifically addressing him. Closer up, the man was quite a bit more intimidating. For even with his more clean-cut appearance, he was still much taller and more toned than Arc. And older. Of course, that wasn't too hard, he realized.

"Ya, well trudging across half a continent tends to do that to a person a little."

"As it should." The other said. Arc hadn't realized just how much younger than he first seemed. He looked maybe a year older than Arc himself. He also reflected on the slight boyish look to his face, though if changed much, he would look almost identical to the older one. He realized they were likely brothers or cousins or some other weird blood connection. "Hayden." The younger man said, addressing himself. "This girly boy is my brother, Pace." Said man punched him in the bad shoulder for his comment. He instantly realized what he'd done and murmured his apologies as Hayden glared heavily at him.

"Arc." He said hesitantly after the little exchange was over. Yep, definitely brothers… He could see the rest of his group watching him, as if he was some sort of leader. How the heck was he when he was three years younger than the youngest out of the group and decades younger than the oldest?

"You guys do have a limit, though the Urgals we just sent in will more than replace you for now." Hayden said, still grimacing slightly and giving Pace a stern glare. "I'd suggest you use you're time…"

With that, most of the men spit up. But Arc couldn't get the burning question off his mind.

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As the latest crowd of men made their way up the streets, quickly stripping their armor for their reprieve, Hayden was surprised to see the young boy he'd been talking to was still there. He was a very interesting kid. Despite being covered head to toe in bloody mud, cut in several places, and obviously having weathered the battle, he had an era of innocence that only comes from youth. His eyes were massive and deeply inquisitive. He seemed to take in every little thing he saw like a sponge. His hair was a honeyed brown color. He wasn't overly muscled, though he obviously had enough strength to make it through the battle so far with only one serious looking wound. "So, why are you guys here?"

Hayden's brow furrowed. He wasn't ready to tell his whole life story to this kid… "What do you mean?"

Seeing Hayden's muscles tighten a little and through him, Pace, who watched on from a distance, the boy clarified himself. "It's just, you look like you'd rather be down there. Like this is a chore. And I saw you two earlier. At least, I think it was you two… Pace have a rusty blade and you weren't wearing your helmet, right?" Hayden nodded; surprised someone could remember all those things while they their self were fighting for their life. "Well, you guys are a good team. But anyways, I just kinda wanted to know what stopped you from fighting. I mean, I doubt your wounds are that serious."

"Jeeze, aren't you the observant one."

"That's what I've always been told." Hayden let out a nervous chuckle.

Hayden struggled for a moment, trying to think of the appropriate answer. What could he say that would satisfy the kid's curiosity without revealing so much that were he to be searched, he might give everything away? He looked to his brother a moment. Hayden could tell simply by his body language and a slight nod that Pace would stop him if he started to say too much.

"Well, our…superior…caught wind that the red was going after us. We know some very valuable things, so they're forcing us to stay here." That was enough, wasn't it? But the kid didn't leave. Instead, he went on.

"Well, did you get caught earlier?" Hayden said nothing. "Then you probably wouldn't get caught now. I mean, now there's a lot more people to cover you even. Don't tell me the blue rider isn't down there somewhere. I didn't see him directly, but the way he blows through soldiers, it's hard for it to be anyone else."

The boy made sense, but he knew the truth of the matter was that if the red rider found Eragon, he actually stood a chance at getting away. But between Hayden and Pace even, they weren't likely to win. After all, neither had been able to defeat Eragon in practice, though they got close together. But Eragon threw in a little magic and both boys were on their backsides.

But even with that, he couldn't help but think of all the good they could do. It was true; him and Pace did work well together. As long as they had one another's backs, maybe they could avoid the red rider all together.

Maybe they should fight…

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Eragon cut through the soldier before him's armor like butter. He went down in a persistant stream of blood, being that Eragon had directly struck his artery. Before the pump of his blood had stopped, two more had joined him.

Eragon couldn't help but wonder still where the rider king had gone. His army was dwindling as more men joined or ran or just plain old died. There was still a substantially greater amount of people left, but the feeling of hope spurred in his gut once more.

The last thing he wanted was for that hope to be crushed.

Part of that, he knew, depended on whether or not Murtagh found him. Not to say the dragon rider hadn't done some damage besides fighting him in frustration. But he seemed keener on finding him or someone who knew where he was.

This was why, for a fraction of a second, he connected to Hayden's mind. Both him and Pace knew what identity he was going by and knew how he was dressed. They also knew the exact root he was taking to go to the Varden's new home should they fail. They also knew the palace and Hayden knew how to get past the wards on Saphira.

Everything depended on them staying safe. After that, nothing else really mattered.

Feeling he was safe for the moment, being that he was in the thickest area, he reached out with his mind, searching once more for any trace of the rider king. He could feel his heart leap into his throat as he felt something extremely unsettling.

Hundreds of creatures like none he had ever felt before. Each had the most unbelievable feel to them. He felt one foreign word vibrating through their mind and realized that though each was their own creature, they worked as a single unit. A massive, flying unit. At it's front, he felt the rider king and quickly withdrew, hiding in the massive crowd around him. They were still far away, but already it was quite obvious just how lethal this force could be. They would need to cut their losses now and retreat before the real damage was done.

Mindlessly, he cut down the man he'd been fighting for quite some time and the rest of the warriors, a crushing feeling weighing down on him.

There was no hope. There never had been. Galbatorix had been hiding an ace up his sleeve. And now, he was using it…

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**God I gotta admit, that really is mean, even for me. Giving them false hope. You might notice all the random little characters I've been introducing. Believe me they still have a part to play. I hope you guys liked it. A good portion of it was so much fun to write…**

**So I promise the last part is coming soon. Then we have some much more serious matters to deal with.**

**And you guys know what? I plan on ending this pretty rockily for now. Keep you guys guessing till the next story. If any of you have good ideas for a name for the story, you can post it in your reviews. I think I'll probably post the first chapter after a couple weeks at least. Give me time to focus on another story I really want to give a decent chance.**

**Don't worry. Evermore is planning on going at least to chapter 50. If I can fit everything I plan on doing in that. If not, it'll be more.**


	40. Zades rock part 4: A race and a fight

**Well, hello there, please don't kill me. I have too many excuses to count, but I won't bore you with them. Out of all the things I'm updating, this is the one I worked the hardest on. I'm so awful at keeping deadlines on FF, but at least the updates pretty decent. I do have a more mapped out plan for the end of Evermore. You won't be seeing any of the rest of the Varden for the rest of the story, its just going to be about Zade's rock and the aftermath. The next chapter instead of this one is going to be the last battle chapter, then there'll be one more little fight/quest they will have to deal with. Should take no more than three chapters. I might round it out with a teaser for the next story, we'll have to see. No more blabbing cept I am going to change my name soon. So don't be surprised if this story pops up with another auther writing it, its still me. Just check the ID and you'll know for sure.**

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When Eragon had been little, rain had seemed like a blessing. Living on a farm, a decent downpour meant extra money to waste on sweets and the few attractions Carvahall had to offer. When dreams of adventure after a good rainfall rattled around in his skull, he would run down to the local wood smith, Grey. When he was little, Grey had seemed like the coolest guy alive when he pulled out intricately carved wood swords and scrolls speaking of amazing adventure and excitement.

Grey had come to Carvahall with Brom and now Eragon suspected the elder man had a past just as Brom had. He'd died over fifteen years ago, but Eragon could still smell fresh pine even after all these years.

But storms like the one that was currently going on had been what had taken Grey's life and forced Eragon and Rowan on low rations. Of course, there had been no medicine when they both consecutively fell deathly ill. Garrow's wife, Beilyn, devotedly watched them. Rowan got better, but Eragon required constant care. Disease had hit the young boy harder. She put all her energy into keeping him alive and when he was finally clear, her own immune system had been so weak, her life was claimed by the same thing that had almost taken Eragon's.

It had been the worst year of his life. Gazing downwards at his army, his family and friends and his home, he was determined there would be no repeats. Not today.

Thick mud made sucked at his legs in places and in others became so slick all the grace and balance in the universe couldn't keep him from slipping. All of his focus and concentration was on not getting squired like a wild boar by a spear or an arrow; not keeping the mud off his battered armor.

He was surprised his mind wasn't so focused on the here and now, but fighting had become so second nature for him he didn't need to pay attention to every swing of his sword. His every thought was on finding Arribane and the other generals to call a retreat before disaster struck. He reached out with his mind again and a sling of oaths flew from his lips. That army of those things was getting far too close for comfort. The steady thrum they made together was unsettling, like a hive of bees all tuned in to one frequency.

A shadow passed over him and he felt his heart drop. As if the fact that it was raining, people were screaming and dying all around him, and an army of ever encroaching…somethings were coming their way, now Thorn dropped from the skies close by him, his jaw snapping as he gave a low rumble. All around him, the fighting stilled, eye focused on the glinting ruby dragon. Even those on Thorn's side seemed to be shielding their throats.

Murtagh jumped from the saddle, his now-helmless hair plastered back with rain. Eragon instinctively hunched closer to the ground, readying himself for a fight. Would his brother have enough honor not to use Thorn's aid at all, given that the younger boy didn't have his own dragon? Or would that matter to him?

Eragon didn't have long to consider it. Murtagh stood straight, defiantly. But he wasn't facing Eragon. Instead, he and two other men were sizing one another up. Eragon would have ran, he didn't really have time to contemplate what was going on, but he recognized the way the two other men held themselves. His blood ran cold.

Hayden and Pace seemed to notice him as well. Hayden's bare face glanced at him nervously, as if telling him to go, but Eragon was having a hell of a time making himself. The two boys had grown on him and the idea that they would fight his brother, whom Eragon himself couldn't even defeat last time with a dragon, made him unwilling to tear away his eyes.

"I'll ask you both one more time." Murtagh held out his fist. "Where is he?"

Both boys stayed quiet, poised to fight and loyal to a fault. He could see Pace's eyes flash to his brother, calculating his strengths and the few faults he could find. The battle had taken a tole on even the red rider; blood had boomed from his side he kept carefully guarded with his left arm while his right unsheathed his blade in a flash of crimson. Zar'roc. It had been a while since Eragon had seen it up close. For some reason, despite the fact that he'd had it in his own hands so many times, it seemed more menacing in Murtagh's fist. Eragon could finally believe everything he'd been told it had done. All of the brutality and silent assassinations in the night.

The blood of Eragon and Murtagh's shared family covering the blade. His and Murtagh's and their father. He could hear the screams as they were cut short and silenced forever. The blade was made for killing.

Fire filled his veins and it took all the restrain Eragon had to sit on the sidelines as Murtagh's blade clashed against Hayden's. It was no contest. The brothers were fairly good fighters, but Murtagh was toying with them.

Eragon gritted his teeth as Pace tried to make his own counter to protect the younger, only to be deflected by Murtagh with lightning speed. Hayden ducked under Murtagh's arm and lunged, a move that probably would have worked if the elder hadn't ever seen it. Instead, the sound of Hayden's blade shattering rang out.

Hayden was jarred back with the impact. He collided heavily with the mud and didn't rise again. Pace hissed at Murtagh, trying to go check on his fallen younger brother. But Murtagh caught him, his blade hitting dangerously close to Pace's hand before the other managed to catch it.

It left a decent sized dent. If Murtagh could get in another powerful stroke like that, it would be over Eragon knew. Pace would be bladeless and vulnerable. Eragon had to intervene.

Like lightning, Hayden was suddenly on Murtagh's back. Unconventional yes but it did take the elder by surprise. Murtagh stumbled backwards due to the extra weight, his legs bending awkwardly. Pace jumped at him, lunging for his stomach.

"No!" It took Eragon a moment to realize it was him who had yelled that. All three seemed to be stunned by the sudden familiar yell. Unfortunately, it was Murtagh who recovered first.

He lashed back at Hayden, throwing the younger like he was weightless off his back. Hayden's head hit the tree with a sickening crack. Shocked, Pace made a lunge forward but was met by Murtagh, who seemed to have a renewed fervor to get out of the battle. Eragon and him made direct eye contact.

That was when he understood and he could feel his heart quicken. Murtagh put himself in danger not because he actually had been about to lose, but because he knew it would squeeze Eragon out of the wood work. He would have the rider right where he wanted him.

On an unseen command, suddenly Thorn was on him, his snaky jaws snapping at him. Eragon jumped backwards ten feet, making the soldiers around him jump too. Thorn pursued. His rider cracked across Pace's head with the pummel of his blade and joined his dragon in pursuit of Eragon, not stopping to watch as Pace fell to the ground. From the distance Eragon was, there was no way of discerning if he was dead or just knocked out and no time to go and check.

Remembering his mission and determined not to fail, Eragon raced through crowds of wildly fighting men. Some tried to hamper him as they saw Thorn's shadow giving chase. Unfortunately, even with Elven like agility and speed, Thorn was rapidly gaining on him. He suddenly was reminded that time he had tried to outrun a horse.

Eragon set up wards around himself just in time. The great dragon attempted to pluck Eragon right out of the crowd, only to be repelled by an invisible force field around him. The effort of restraining him zapped Eragon's strength, making him stumble for a moment before continuing forward.

For possibly the first time in forever, Eragon could feel true exhaustion gripping him. His heart seemed to have swelled up, ready to burst. An angry Thorn launched brutal ariel assaults from above while he had to be a gymnast to avoid the swords and spears on the ground. Meanwhile, he could feel Murtagh battering against his mental shields.

Pain wracked his body and he blindly drew energy from around him; from the corpses of the dying and injured alike. He kept his sword brandished and shield out. Unfortunately, none of it was enough.

As Thorn was deflected once more, the wards broke, sending Eragon flying down the hillside. He rolled, his body now drenched in a fine coating of mud and blood. Fell swords and twigs and anything else with a sharp point pierced his skin. He came to a stop next to the mutilated corpse of a horse, his back slapping against the saddle horn. Exhausted, he strained to get up, hunched over on all fours like some hunted animal.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen." Said a deadpanned voice. He looked over with acid in his gaze as Murtagh gracefully slid down the ravine, Thorn remaining on the top. "Are you really that helpless without your dragon that you can't fight me?"

"I knew you were behind it." Eragon hissed.

"Not me per say, but in general you're correct." Murtagh sneered back. He drew Zar'roc, splaying his legs to coax Eragon into a fight. "Come on! Don't make it seem like I am incompetent for not catching you before."

"You're not going to this time either." Eragon declared quietly. Murtagh relaxed ever so slightly. Good, he's getting a bit cocky. Before Murtagh could think of some witty retort, Eragon lunged forward, the force against Zar'roc near shattering his own blade. Murtagh took a moment to get back on even ground with him from the sudden impact which jarred his muscles, but when he did it was just like old times.

Eragon could distinctly remember Murtagh and him sparring, laughing. It seemed so long ago. Back when Murtagh had been wielding the silver hand-and-a-half and Eragon Zar'roc. And not only had the color of their blades changed, but their expressions as well. No smiling or laughing. Just sheer concentration and unadulterated hate on Eragon's part. Both boys drew energy from around them. Nothing was able to enter the ravine to interrupt. It would be dead and crash into one of them, giving the other an advantage for a moment.

Lightning flashed above and more rain fell. At this rate, this old ravine would become a lake and both would drown. Meanwhile, Eragon couldn't help but feel the presence of those things, getting ever closer. But he would not leave the pit. Not until he was capable of climbing up its muddy surface without having the fear of getting sliced in the back.

Still, fighting him brought forward familiar nostalgia. The desire to not fight him, to not believe he was evil. It hurt even more now that he knew there was a specific reason why they'd bonded so fast. Blood tended to make you closer in persona and ability; hence how close a match the two were.

Then Murtagh tried to pull something Eragon recognized. He remembered when Murtagh had disarmed him using a maneuver which, according to Arya, was completely new. Murtagh had invented it. He had pleaded for Murtagh to teach him it back when they were on each other's side, but Murtagh insisted it was his move and his alone. The few times Eragon had seen it, it was too fast for recreation. Arya, however, had managed to pick up on it. She was never as good as the real thing; it was so fast and ruthless that one of the stages had become lost in translation.

But after she used it on him a few times, he noticed something. There was a step in it which, for a split second, put the user off balance if you hit just the right part on the tang.

He'd never tried it when it mattered, but in that fight, there was no time to think. He struck Zar'roc's tang; feeling the resonating metal jar through his hand. The loosened blade slid upwards with his next stroke. Eragon swiftly caught it in his other hand. A stunned look crossed Murtagh's face as Eragon held his plain blade and Zar'roc to Murtagh's collarbone.

Murtagh closed his eyes, obviously waiting for Eragon to lob his head off. But Eragon hesitated. However much Eragon wanted to throw everything on his brother's shoulders…to blame him…it didn't seem right for Eragon to kill him. He thought of all the things his friends would say if he came back from the battle with the red rider slain by his hand. Hrothgar, whom had offered Murtagh shelter and eventually amnesty, would be alive if not for him. God only knew how many others would be breathing also. But he didn't see the guise of the red rider here. He saw his friend. His brother. Aiedail's father. Could he possibly even try to live with himself if he killed Murtagh?

His indecision made it so that he wouldn't find out this time around. Thorn's sweeping tail launched at him from behind, knocking him to the ground as the great red snarled viciously. But instead of advancing, the great dragon nuzzled his rider and the pair just stared at Eragon. Zar'roc was in reach; a little bit more than that, Eragon realized. The crimson blade was sheathed…in his side.

But all three of them did nothing. They just stared, as if both parties were shocked. Eragon felt a whisper of a consciousness touched his before repealing as Murtagh's face hardened. Curious, Eragon reached out to Murtagh's consciousness himself.

…_bring him back with us but if we don't then…._

_I know, little one. It seems we are no longer alone._ Both dragon and rider seemed to notice Eragon listening in, for Murtagh's next words were addressed to him.

_Brother….we can't let you stay here….they're coming._

_What's coming exactly? _Eragon replied before he could even consider stopping himself.

That was when the horizon went black as a maddening melody filled the air. Eragon reached for his ears, screaming for it to be stopped. But even through the sound, he heard one last word in his mind before he closed it up.

_Säkka._


	41. Answer this! Review & info pages

**Where did Evermore go? Has the authoress forgotten her work?**

**The answer you guys will be happy to hear is no. It's just that as I was writing the newest chapter, I reread some of my older ones. I was in eighth grade when I started with Evermore. Six years ago. I'm now a senior, attempting to prepare herself to go out into the real world(SCARY!). And I've learned a bit too much about writing in my recent times, once again. I guess you could say I'm now highly dissatisfied with the earlier chapters and in fact, have been working on an alternate version, better, longer, and with much more development and with a few tricks I've been investing my time into learning.**

**I promise it won't get too much different, but I recommend you either reread it(daunting task) or read the little summary I'm going to make of all the changes I am making. I will be making an epilogue recap to Evermore, which will sum it up so you don't have to go digging through everything if you so wish. I've been worse than CP himself about keeping my updates on schedule. The summary will also appear in the sequel(which I have began work on despite not being done with this one.) It'll be the same in both though.**

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Canadian-Girl14  
2010-07-22 . chapter 40

I thought for sure Eragon was going to kill Murtagh there, but I'm so glad he didn't! I can't wait to see what's next!

I wouldn't be that evil. As the next few chapter's theme song goes, "The Story is just beginning."

Leonopteryx  
2009-09-28 . chapter 40

I thougt your story was very well done, but having just read it, and hitting that end, I do wish that you had made the last few chapters to tie up the loose ends.

That isn't the last chapter.

spartanburns  
2009-09-08 . chapter 40

do you ever plan on finishing this story? it's been just over 4 months since you last updated. I know you are most likely busy with other things, but you can't just leave a great story like this where you left it. I hope to see an update, if not, oh well, people have things to do.

I regret I haven't worked on it more, but senior year's proving to be...different...than I expected.

Kibble Beast  
2009-07-18 . chapter 40

woah!

i feel a big uh-oh coming...

poor eragon :( i feel so sorry for him.

he needs his saphira!

you have to update this!

don't be leaving us all on that cliffy!

I shall. I might post a chapter just to establish I'm still working on this. It'll be the same outcome, this battle, no matter how I slice it.

Canadian-Girl14  
2009-04-30 . chapter 39

Good chapter!

Thanks.

Canadian-Girl14  
2009-04-24 . chapter 38

Good chapter! There were a few spelling mistakes and such, but it was good otherwise. And I don't remember Silver Lake. Should I?

Most of the things in this story, even back when I wrote Silver Lake, has a purpose.

Canadian-Girl14  
2009-03-31 . chapter 37

Good chapter! Please update soon! You can't tell how the battle ends and then not show right away how it happened! :)

Yeah, that I'm going to change a bit as well. Try not to get too lost...

Writer of the North  
2009-03-08 . chapter 1

cool

Thanks.

dreyanor  
2009-01-14 . chapter 37

good story. hope you can update soon. but is saphira going to be ok.

You'll just have to wait and see, I guess.

Canadian-Girl14  
2008-12-25 . chapter 36

Good chapter! I liked the brother-dynamics of the story.

Believe me, I have more planned...earlier in the story. We will also be seeing a bit of Vexie, since I decided to change that part of the story. Had a massive plot bunny for her I'm thinking will cause quite a bit of interesting things to happen...if the world doesn't explode from her reappearence first...

xLilypadsx  
2008-12-25 . chapter 36

Another great 2 chapters!

Merry X-mas to you too, and keep with the updates!

Good luck and update soon.

Regret that I haven't been better about making sure I update on time. Hopefully what I am now doing to Evermore makes up for it

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Canadian-Girl14 2008-11-27 . chapter 34

Thanks!

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Canadian-Girl14 2008-11-11 . chapter 33

:)

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xlilypadsx 2008-11-11 . chapter 33

ya eragon was a bit angsty, wasn't he? oh well. we'll get that fixed as soon as the next chapter, 35 is up.

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xLilypadsx 2008-07-14 . chapter 32

don't worry. no matter what, i'll work it out for you guys

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Canadian-Girl14 2008-07-13 . chapter 32

thank you!

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Deluxe489 2008-06-23 . chapter 33

I guess i should for sure thank you very much. Sorry I didn't send you the last update. You did such a good job with the last, I've just been so damn busy! Curse the rest of the world for not letting me write all the time by knocking inspiration out of me when I have time to write and giving me inspiration when I don't. Well, that might change a bit, as I have started carrying around a couple journals everywhere. Of course, that leaves the matter of typing it, but oh well...

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deddy2die4 2008-06-22 . chapter 33

Don't worry. I'l probably do a small recap and then go right back into the story after a while. just have so much going on with the battle and moving of the varden

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xLilypadsx 2008-06-20 . chapter 33

I could never fully abandon Evermore. Physically impossible with how long I've been writing...

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DragonFireOKN 2008-06-20 . chapter 33

Ya I pretty much rock at it. I have 33 adults and am still going!

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GrahamPegg 2008-06-12 . chapter 32

hmm. Good idea but no...

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Mischivous Purple One 2008-06-09 . chapter 32

Thank yous. What do you think of it now? I can tell you how to set it up. It's actually pretty easy...

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62635377-nameless 2008-05-05 . chapter 31

Glad you like it. Your wish is my command!

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Du Moi abr Wyrda 2008-05-04 . chapter 31

Just got really good? Aww, means I gotta try harder...

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Ryder Blade 2008-05-04 . chapter 32

Tis an Eragon/Arya fic. Hope you saw the little bits I've pushed in...

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fAteD lOvE 2008-05-04 . chapter 27

Flattered you reread it. I do have some plans for Aiedail, but that is not them...

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DragonFireOKN 2008-05-03 . chapter 31

She's not dead. Oh god no...

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Canadian-Girl14 2008-04-25 . chapter 30

Thanks...

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Ayus 2008-04-24 . chapter 30

Flattered you said that. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside...I don't think I could publish though. But you would be the first to know if I ever did publish a story!

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DragonFireOKN 2008-04-24 . chapter 30

Thank you very much.

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Ayus 2008-04-24 . chapter 22

thank you so much!

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Ayus 2008-04-24 . chapter 17

damn, shame on me!

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meee 2008-03-07 . chapter 29

soon

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SEveN 2008-02-18 . chapter 30

THANK YOU

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hmmm 2008-02-15 . chapter 29

you'll just have to wait n see

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ooohh 2008-02-15 . chapter 28

oh dear

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cool 2008-02-15 . chapter 27

done w/extras. you read framers yet?

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nice story 2008-02-15 . chapter 26

me too...

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fAteD lOvE 2008-02-13 . chapter 29

yes yes i always have those don't i? shame on me god...

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Canadian-Girl14 2008-02-12 . chapter 29

oh ya...

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DragonFireOKN 2008-02-12 . chapter 29

thank you so much. i do try and yes it can be confusing at times, but that is the wonderous world of my mind. crazy wild and sometimes really odd and confusing

Keep reading

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xLilypadsx 2008-02-11 . chapter 29

then you'll love my latest chapter!

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Canadian-Girl14 2008-01-24 . chapter 28

good

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SNOWDRIVER 2008-01-16 . chapter 1

thanks. I am just terrified to fix it for fear of a repeat of the last time i tried...

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who else? 2007-12-08 . chapter 27

good for you! i mean really!

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who else? 2007-12-08 . chapter 26

he is isn't he?

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who else? 2007-12-08 . chapter 25

dun dun dun! you're gonna love it

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who else? 2007-12-08 . chapter 24

glad you liked it XD

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 23

oh noes! can't have greasy follicles!

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 22

seems that way yep

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 21

coolio

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 20

bet you were...

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 19

yep you guessed right

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 18

tis what i live for...

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 17

thanx

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who else? 2007-12-06 . chapter 16

ya i'm embarassed...ars isn't done yet...

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 15

who knows?

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 14

love thos little buggers

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 13

curse you and your constant questions!

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 12

yep i'm known 4 um :)

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 11

ha ha! how late u up this time? 3? 4?

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 10

dun dun dun! yes he is...glad you like the conflict...

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 9

does it get dark at night?

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 8

*blushes out of shear embrassment* damn sorry...

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 7

you and all you're questions gah!

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same as the last, dumb ass 2007-12-05 . chapter 6

by your sis again? jeeze...

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same as the last dumb ass 2007-12-04 . chapter 5

ha ha very funny

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same as the last dumb ass 2007-12-04 . chapter 4

thank you thank you

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same as before 2007-12-03 . chapter 3

l...o...l...

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same as the last... 2007-12-03 . chapter 2

not bad not bad...yourself

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u probably kno who... 2007-12-03 . chapter 1

you lied to me! told me you started weeks ago!Canadian-Girl14  
2007-08-14  
ch 24, reply: Thanks. Ya, but it will all work out in the end...if poeple keep reviewing.

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fAteD lOvE  
2007-08-06  
ch 23, reply: Sorry for that. 'Muratgh' is that chapter and 'Thorn' in that chapter were never of course there. It was really Eragon and Saphira under the illution spell. I'm sorry that was a bit so-so. In the part when Aiedail almost dies, she hadn't seen Eragon throw off his cloak. The few features she was able to see of it before looked much like Murtagh's plus before when he had the illtion spell she saw his face exactly so she couldn't tell the difference till the spell wore off and the cloak was off. You were able to tell that Roran was Roran, right? If so, good because if you couldn't, I'd have cause to be worried. I have been going back and forth between what Eragon does with her, but know that he'll never truely be able to love Aiedail. Well, at least not in that way... He'll have the same role for her as Gladr had for Saphira...only ten times more dramatic.

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fAteD lOvE  
2007-06-21  
ch 21, reply not quite. can't reveal too much more though

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fAteD lOvE  
2007-06-18  
ch 16, reply Aiedail is in all of the following chappies: the Prolouge, what was found at Du Weldenvarden, My morning star, and A simple idea. Also see her in an up and coming chapters Inside ememy walls, A hard choice, and Sound the alarms. One chapter from now is the first one... As for who she is, that is going to be adressed later in the story.

As for your prediction, one is really close, but not quiete close enough. the other's fairly far off.

ERAGON AND ARYA FOREVER(lol ya no duh)

ps i probably will use that frase. ;) Arygon forever!

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Mariano's-twins  
2007-06-17  
ch 19, reply The reason why I made this chapter was so I could answer questions and add little sneak previews early in the story...and yes I will do that. And I do realise the problem with more chapters then reviews. Atleast I don't have a flame. Most storries do by now. Hopefully that will change, but I'll still keep writing if not. Otherwise I'll have this story bugging me forever. A way you could help is to possibly tell others to read or give me suggestions on how to make the summary more appealing.

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Spottedstar106  
2007-06-17  
ch 19, reply That's the big question that will be answered in the next chapter. I can tell you that it will all play into the final plot. I promise to update soon...like today maybe...

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Mariano's-twins  
2007-06-12  
ch 17, reply

Yes I did make it, and that prophic song will come into play later. It shall be fulfilled, along with a few other surprises you'll never expect. As for whether or not Roran will die, you'll just have to wait. I can tell you it will be resolved in the next few chapters.

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Spottedstar106  
2007-06-11  
ch 17, reply

Murtagh will be coming back in to play soon. But first I'll have to settle the matter of Roran's plight.

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Spottedstar106  
2007-06-07  
ch 15, reply

Like I say, I never hate characters, just their perfection.

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Mariano's-twins  
2007-05-23  
ch 14, reply

Well, some chapters are about that, others not so much. Just glad you like it.

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Mariano's-twins  
2007-05-15  
ch 13, reply

Definitely.

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EminaAnimanga  
2007-05-15  
ch 1, anon.

Wow, how very flattering. I try hard on any story I sign my name to.

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Divine Dark Warrior  
2007-05-15  
ch 1, reply

Thank you very much. Watch for updates please. They'll come frequently unless I am at a show or busy for some other reason.

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Mariano's-twins  
2007-05-12  
ch 12, reply

Thank you. Please keep reading and reviewing. I'm fine with suggestions too, actually, I prefer them. So any form of help is wanted.

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The author  
2007-05-11  
ch 12, anon.

Problem solved.

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eragonsgirl#1 11, anon.

I don't really have any problems with who the characters are, I just hate perfection. And hating Saphira is a flaw… Oh ya and if you 3 Murtagh, just wait and see what else is going to happen.

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eliteElite  
2007-05-06  
ch 5, reply

Thank you. But you don't even know the half of the story…yet…

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Mariano's-twins  
2007-05-06  
ch 11, reply

My only answer to this is that there will be….trust me, there will be. I'm probably going to ship Arya/Eragon (after I de perfectize them both of course) Katrina/Roran, Murtagh/Nasuada, and many other small relationships along the way. Like Aiedail is going to like Eragon but it won't work out for a couple of reasons…wait, I've already said too much about that.

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Old reviews from the origional version and my answers

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kyat  
2007-04-26  
ch 14, reply

strange, every time it says theres an update, it shows nothing on my computer o0  
maybe fanfiction messed up again... gr... i want to read some updates if there are any!

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Well, that's because I was always adding to the chappies I already had instead of adding chappies. Now I'm sure to add all I can to the chappy **before** updating...

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AlinaAnila  
2007-04-13  
ch 15, reply

That was really cool! Update again! BUT, make the next chapter longer!

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You'd certianly be proud of it now...

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kyat  
2007-04-13  
ch 15, reply

nice story so far... its has its own originality in the plot.  
the thought of murtagh taking on a fatherly role seems a bit strange but it gives the whole story a new twist on who this little elven girl is or could be in the future. i especially like the scenes with murtagh making sure aiedail was safe and the race with the fall. i thought those were cute scenes.  
keep up the good work :

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Glad you like it. I think he's had that side all along. And yes, alot of my story does revolve around her and her furture desitny. You'd be rather shocked if I were to tell you the truth of this story. Ya, those father-daughter scenes were fun, but I can't do many now that there'll be an ocean of land between the two...

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Blacktangledheart92  
2007-04-13  
ch 15, reply

I like it. Keep updating and ill keep reading. Good work

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Thank you. I aim to please

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AlinaAnila  
2007-04-12  
ch 14, reply

That was great! Update again! Whats gunna Happen to Aidale? TELL ME!

pS: I cant post my own sotories, it keeps coming up wih things like: An error occured while processing your request.

Help me!

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hope the problem's fixed now. Can't tell you bout Aiedail. Only my beta reader knows and she's impossible to reach for you guys...;)

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Crystalblade Warrior  
2007-04-11  
ch 1, reply

Nice.

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Nice

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Given-Inside  
2007-04-07  
ch 12, reply

You have some good writing/grammar skills. It is a very impressive story to read. Keep going on it.

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didn't even realize you had reviewed this! Thank you. I've been doing alot of editing and work, but it can't be perfect...

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LightningStorms  
2007-04-05  
ch 8, reply

is angela old now?

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maybe...

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swim freak 9000  
2007-04-04  
ch 8, reply

It was...okay. Not your best chappie. Things are happening REALLY fast, and after working such a big spell to reverse Elva's curse, you might want to describe what's happening more, and wouldn't Eragon be tired? Well, I still really like this fanfic, so keep UPDATING...

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Well, doesn't matter now, as I realized I could use her and changed it so that she isn't healed. I know it's confusing, but give me a break! I was new!

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eragonsgirl#1  
2007-04-04  
ch 7, anon.

O.O wow...like i said before awsome! i believe this is one of the best stoires i have read. possibly the best...keep up the good work. i'm looking forward to the next chapter.

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Thank you very much. I decided before I get off tonight, I was going to spread the message that this moved as my old fans have not returned to the new version.

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eragonsgirl#1  
2007-04-04  
ch 1, anon.

wow. that was awsome! two thumbs up!

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Glad you like it

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swim freak 9000  
2007-04-03  
ch 7, reply

NO! Don't kill Roran! No! One question: where is Aedail? They wouldn't just leave her back at home...would they? Oh, and (though I should have said it earlier) YAY! CHAPPIE 7! I luv your fanfic. No ending it. Or else...I'll...be sad, I guess. Not much I can do here.

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Lol, have you been reading the newer version

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swim freak 9000  
2007-04-02  
ch 6, reply

Whoa. Here comes Murty! YAY! Great chappie, I loved the description of the stag. I don't really like how stupid Katrina sounds, but whatever, it's your fanfic. UPDATE!

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Sorry, I know you like her, but it was nessesary for drama. This is a drama fic after all

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swim freak 9000  
2007-03-31  
ch 4, reply

HEY! I'm the first reviwer! I guess I'm just amazing like that (jk).  
Aw...poor Eragon. Thanks for rescuing Katrina, though. She's one of my favorite characters! But why would Murtagh pick up a helpless random elf baby and keep it? You'd think he'd give it away or sumthing when he got back to the city, or he'd kill it, or even take it back to the elves...oh well. Oh, and I REALLY luved your description of Thorn in the beginning.  
Keep up the awesomeful (and yes, I know it's not a word) work!

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Sorry to break it to you, but your acually my second... sorry. Keep reviewing! they brighten my day, good or bad

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cyber viper42  
2007-03-31  
ch 4, reply HI  
This is a great start for ur story, keep updating it!  
The idea of the baby elf is AWSOME...wish i thought of that...

Keep up the great work

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Thank you and too all my reviewers, never stop with your reviews, they make me smile:) 


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